


3:12

by bookishascanbe



Series: everything is right in the world [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cute, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluffy, I, Kiss Kiss Fall in Love, M/M, Sir Meowsalot, got a little too into coming up with ayama and saito and i will not apologize, i really just, like matsuhana, mentions of drinking but i pinky swear they were of age, stage kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22887970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishascanbe/pseuds/bookishascanbe
Summary: Stage kissing is an affront to nature.
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei
Series: everything is right in the world [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645129
Comments: 115
Kudos: 213





	1. sour

It was a perfectly normal, totally, not weird, average day for Hanamaki Takahiro, up until exactly 3:12pm. He went to class, he did his homework - a lie, he opened a Google doc and stared at it for 45 minutes before giving up and taking a nap instead - and now he was eating a late lunch in the dining hall, totally not rewatching Ouran High School Host Club (for the fifth time). And now, things were not normal. No one ever bothered Takahiro in the dining hall, he was the RBF bubblegum pink haired kid that would glare anyone and everyone but a kitten into submission, until you talked to him - under academic pressure, of course - and then he was all sunshine and jokes and a pinch of vaguely concerning witchy shit.

But this. This was _not_ normal. A person dropping into the chair next to him and clapping a warm hand down on his shoulder at precisely 3:12 in the afternoon, on an offensively sunny day in mid-February, when Takahiro was watching Ouran High School Host Club on full volume and brightness up. He turned to glare the offender away, maybe offer a “Wrong person, darling,” as an escape, and had the world swept out from under his poor, Adidas-footed, fuzzy-pink-cat-ankle-socks-wearing feet. 

His attention was caught, first, by the hand on his shoulder. Tan fingers, strong, long, nicely shaped and just on the side of maybe too big but absolutely not, rested against the crisp blue of his jacket. Takahiro followed the fingers down to a strong wrist, that was adorned by a thin strip of black, which Takahiro identified as a hair tie, which was a bit out of place on such large hands, but seemed to fit perfectly all the same, and followed _that_ to a thick, well-muscled forearm, made all the more unfairly - rudely, really, who gave that hand the right to be so attractive in the first place? - appealing by the sloppily pushed up sleeve of a black long sleeved t-shirt that had bright yellow sunflowers on the sleeves. 

He followed the sleeve up to a shoulder, and the peek of a slender, tan neck that connected rather abruptly to a sharp, diamond cutting jawline that Takahiro had the overwhelming urge to press his finger against to see if it would cut him - he was fairly certain it would. The jaw led to a plush, full-lipped mouth that would’ve had Takahiro swooning in a bar setting, and he could’ve sworn he could feel the press of those lips against his. The mouth led to a sharp, straight nose, and Takahiro met the most stunning, fantastic, world-changing hazel eyes he’d ever had the joy of looking into in his entire pathetic life. 

Really, “Where have you been all my life?” he heard himself say and the inevitable flush of red that went through his whole body was all too expected. “I’m sorry, I-”

“Your dreams, probably, I think I’ve seen you in mine. I need a favor, angel, can you do that for me?”

_Jesus, Mary, Joseph, God Almighty, the Universe itself, any holy being, really_ , Takahiro thought, face rising a few degrees closer to fever territory. The guy’s voice was deep, and sultry, and exactly what Takahiro had expected when he’d prank called that sex line on a dare three months ago, half drunk at a party. And the fact that the guy was just sitting there, with a jawline like a knife, hazel eyes- with gorgeous flecks of green and gold, an _undercut_ , and a mop of purposely messy black curls, one hand on Takahiro’s shoulder and the other draped across his knee, instead of on the other end of that line three months ago, voice shaking poor half-drunk past Takahiro’s body down to the bone, was a goddamn shame. But he was here now, so Takahiro found it in himself to forgive the poor guy. He’d called him angel, after all. 

“I might be able to grace you with a favor. What is it?” he said, dripping as much confidence into his voice as he could and pretending the burning in his face was a sunburn from the uncharacteristic sunshine. 

The guy’s hand traced a burning trail from his shoulder up to his jaw. Takahiro didn’t even flinch at the heat from the guy’s hand against his skin. Like, _really_ , this guy did not need to be this good looking, and smooth and-

“Can I kiss you? I’m trying to get a girl off my back about taking her out and I maybe told her I was meeting you for a date. If not that’s fine and I’ll just sit here and regret my life choices while pretending to talk to you.” 

Takahiro thought he couldn’t blush any harder. He was wrong. “Uh…” he cleared his throat, trying to look away from those bright, soul searching eyes. He couldn’t. “Well, first of all, who are we lying to?”

The guy chuckled and Takahiro had to choke down a whimper. He was so attractive Takahiro’s very soul protested it. And the smirk he gave Takahiro made something twist warm and sharp in his stomach. He used the hand on Takahiro’s neck to tilt his head and used that other hand and pointed a slender finger at a girl across the dining hall who was glaring holes into Takahiro. She was cute, certainly, but from the way the guy’s hand tightened a little on Takahiro’s neck - possessively, almost, honestly he’d just met the guy - she was certainly not his type. 

He let out a breath of laughter, planted his hand on the guy’s jaw - it was sharp, but didn’t slice Takahiro’s fingers like he’d half-hoped - said, “Kiss me, darling,” and pulled a little on his jaw to make it seem like it was Takahiro pulling him into a jealous kiss. 

The guy did all the work, and before Takahiro could actually register what was happening, the guy’s hands were on his face, holding him like he would shatter under his fingertips, thumbs covering Takahiro’s mouth, the pads of his thumbs a little rough on his lips, but really that was okay because he didn’t mind when the guy leaned forward and pressed his mouth against - _his thumbs, are you fucking kidding me? Well, it’s still pretty hot and I guess I can’t really complain too much because he’s kissing me at all and god he smells really nice, and he’s so warm._

The guy pulled back and had the audacity to _smile_ at Takahiro, who felt the build up of a whine in the back of his throat at how unfairly hot that was, and he’d never wanted to see someone dishevled from sex so bad in his life and this guy thought he could just waltz into Takahiro’s life and ask to kiss him and not even actually do it and Takahiro was just going to let him.

And the guy said, “Thanks, angel. I owe you one.” He pressed a kiss to Takahiro’s nose before standing up and leaving Takahiro to sit in stunned silence, his hands brushing against Takahiro’s cheeks as he pulled away. 

Thinking to himself, staring at absolutely nothing and everything all at once, Takahiro came to the conclusion that he still didn’t know the guy’s name, and it was highly likely, especially on a campus this big, that he would never see this guy again. He had an itching feeling in his chest that he’d just met his soulmate, and forgotten to ask for his fucking name. He groaned and buried his face in his folded arms on the table. Everything in the world could’ve been perfect if he’d only remembered _to ask for his fucking name_ . He could’ve been making out with this guy in his dorm on his bed, but _no,_ he forgot to ask him for his name. 

_This is going to haunt me forever_ , he thought, closing his eyes and sucking in a sharp breath. He’d move on from the guy eventually, he assumed. _He hoped._ He checked his phone, and was greeted with a text from Iwaizumi yelling about his crush in his Astronomy 101 class, and the time. 

It was 3:14. Two minutes. That heaven-sent angel had only been in his life for two. Fucking. Minutes. Takahiro smacked his forehead against the table, and allowed himself another two minutes to wallow in self-pity and gave himself the rest of the day to pray to every god in every religion he could think of - and a few he googled - that the universe would see fit to send the guy his way just _once_ more. 

Iwaizumi sent another text, in all caps: << COME GET DRINKS WITH US HIRO YOU LITTLE BITCH >>

He went, if only to drown himself in amaretto sours and sangrias.


	2. ketchup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe its 3am and i have zero regrets

The desk was so cold. And it felt _so_ nice against Takahiro’s pounding, aching, burning head. Drinking like a monster at the bar with Iwaizumi and his Astronomy 101 crush, who was introduced as Oikawa Tooru - and who looked like he belonged on the cover of a Vogue magazine or on the red carpet - was by far one of the worst ideas he’d ever had, right up there with this stupid fucking 8am philosphy lecture. Honestly, who ever thought an 8am lecture was a good idea? Past Takahiro, that’s who. _Fuck Past Takahiro_ , he thought viciously, turning his head over so he could press his cheek against the cold wood again. 

Even drowning himself in alcohol didn’t help him forget that he didn’t know the stage kissing stranger’s name. He’d kick himself for that forever, unless the universe saw fit to cross their paths again, and oh, how he hoped she did. He sighed and then let out a pathetic little moan at the throb of headache through his forehead all the way to his neck. He probably should’ve eaten something, but he hadn’t had time to stop for his normal croissant and coffee. He was also still a bit too nauseous to eat anything. He hoped it’d be over by the end of this lecture, which he very much intended to sleep through. 

“Well, well, would ya look at that,” came a voice that shook Takahiro to his very core, and oh thank god the universe deigned to cross their paths again, “If it isn’t my angel. I didn’t know you had this class.” 

Takahiro opened one eye to see the - probably - love of his life sitting down in the chair next to him, all golden skin and messy bedhead. He winced at the bright lights and lifted his head enough to respond to the guy. “This class is the bane of my existence, and honestly, I should’ve just skipped.” 

The guy nudged him and Takahiro groaned. “I’m glad you didn’t. You look a little like death, angel, are you alright?” 

Takahiro held up a finger, swallowing down the sour taste in his mouth. “Went a little too hard last night on the shots while I was third wheeling.” He laid his head back down on the desk, sighing through his nose at the cold wood against his skin.

The guy hummed. “Ah, hangover. You eaten anything yet?” 

“Can’t, still in the nausea phase,” he whispered, because apparently the professor was talking. When had class started? Takahiro didn’t even care. Everything hurt just a little too much.

As much as he would’ve loved to talk to the guy, he needed a nap, desperately. A water bottle appeared on his desk, like a gift from the heavens, and gentle fingers settled in his hair, stroking softly. “I’m not going to lie and say that Haya isn’t in this class, too, and sitting three rows behind us, so I’m using you a little bit still, but I’m also not going to ask you to do anything, not while you’re hungover. Take a nap, Angel, I’ll wake you up when class is done.” 

Takahiro hummed and leaned his head into the soft touch, closing his eyes, and let this God-given gift of a man stroke his hair and send him into sleep, lulled by the professor’s monotone voice. He had water to drink when he woke up and a gorgeous man at his side, just as the universe intended. 

He woke up to a hand on his shoulder and a rough baritone. “Angel, wake up. Class is over.” 

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” he muttered, sitting up straight - _ha_ \- and stretching, headache mercifully pounding a little less with the nap. 

“Hm?” the guy said, hand still resting on Takahiro’s shoulder, keeping the skin underneath warm, along with Takahiro’s heart. 

“Hanamaki Takahiro. I’m not saying I mind you calling me Angel, I really don’t, but I thought you should at least know my name,” he said, cracking the water bottle open and taking a long drink. 

The guy paused, and then a chuckle slipped out. “Oh, right, I sort of forgot names. I’ve really just been calling you Angel in my head, and to my friends. I’m Matsukawa Issei.” 

_Finally,_ a name. A wonderful name that Takahiro let roll off his tongue, and thanked the universe that his potential soulmate didn’t have a weird name. “Matsukawa Issei, huh? Not bad to the ear. Mind if I call you Matsu?” 

Matsukawa stood up and held out a hand to Takahiro, who took it and let himself be pulled up. “Angel, you can call me anything you want as long as you let me take you to get something to eat,” he said, slinging his arm over Takahiro’s shoulder. 

He radiated warmth, and Takahiro was a little _too_ eager to lean into his side. “Sure, I don’t mind free food every now and then.” 

Matsukawa breathed out a laugh that Takahiro felt against his ear and deep into his soul. “Alright, alright. What are you in the mood for?” 

_To be aggressively topped by you,_ he thought, then shrugged a little. “Breakfast, whatever’s open.” 

“Lucky for you, I know a fantastic diner down the street that shouldn’t be too busy right now,” Matsukawa said, and Takahiro hummed in response. 

He was so unbelievably _warm_ , and Takahiro couldn’t help himself from melting into Matsukawa’s side, like it was mid-winter on a snowy day, and he was curled up in front of a fireplace in a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa in his hands. He closed his eyes and let Matsukawa guide him, and almost pitched forward when his foot caught on a step.

Matsukawa caught him by the waist like it was nothing. “Easy, Angel,” he said, angled so that he was standing slightly in front of Takahiro - blocking him from falling - with their chests pressed together. 

His hands were burning on Takahiro’s waist, and he could only focus on the fact that Matsukawa was a few inches taller than him and he had to tilt his head to look at him and, gods, he was so close and Takahiro wasn’t quite sure he had the willpower to keep himself from tipping forward and touching their lips together. To stop himself, he tilted his head down and fell against Matuskawa’s chest. 

“Sorry. Guess I’m still sleepy,” he muttered, resting his hands on Matsukawa’s - _thick_ , holy shit - forearms. If he wasn’t standing up, and if his head weren’t still throbbing faintly, it’d be so easy to fall asleep, pressed against Matsukawa’s heat. 

Matuskawa’s fingers tightened on his hips. “You gonna make it to the diner? Need me to carry you?”

Takahiro laughed. “No, no, I can make it. Just,” he pressed a little closer, determined to soak up as much warmth as possible, “just give me a sec.”

Matsukawa moved his hand to pat his back gently. “Take your time. I don’t have any other classes.”

Takahiro took him at his word and stood there for another moment, letting the sun soak into his clothes and Matsukawa’s hands support him, and basked in the warmth and softness of it all. With a sigh, he pushed away. _He’s not your boyfriend, Takahiro, don’t get too excited._

“So soon?” Matsukawa asked, shifting so that he was out of Takahiro’s path, but kept one arm wrapped around his waist, which he was absolutely weak for. Honestly, he was just weak for Matsukawa in general, and he barely knew the guy. Maybe that was the point of one-night stands? 

“If I’d stayed still any longer I would’ve fallen asleep and you would’ve _had_ to carry me, Matsu. It’s just too nice out today.” 

Matsukawa laughed, and Takahiro flushed proudly, feeling himself go a bit weaker at the knees. At this point, Matsukawa could’ve asked him to steal the Sun and he’d fucking do it. He couldn’t even imagine how weak he’d be when they were friends and knew each other better. 

He let Matsukawa pull him along by the waist and talk to him about random things, offering his opinion or a comment about things, even making him laugh several times. It was so easy to fall into conversation with him, and it felt like he’d known Matsukawa his whole life. Like they’d grown up together, like they were two missing pieces of a puzzle finally found and connected. It just felt… right. 

Before he knew it, they were at the diner. Takahiro stopped, stared at the building, threw his head back and laughed so hard and loud that he snorted and a couple people turned to look at him. What were the odds?

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow - wow, Takahiro just noticed that he had some thickass eyebrows - at him. “What’s funny, Angel?”

Takahiro waved his hand and gasped a breath. What were the fucking _odds_ they’d end up at this specific diner. He led an amused Matsukawa inside and grinned at the exuberant “Makki-chan!” from the hostess. 

“Hey, Sara! Is ‘Kaash in today?”

She leaned her arms on the stand. “Nah, he’s on a _date_. Aki’s here, though, if you want him?”

Takahiro nodded. “Hell yeah. Just the two of us,” he said, motioning to Matsukawa looming behind him. 

She grinned and handed him two menus. “Booth 10’s open in his section.” He took the menus and moved towards the booth. “Enjoy your _date_ , Makki-chan,” she called.

He threw up his middle finger and ignored her and the vicious flush of his cheeks at Matsukawa’s smirk behind him. Really, the guy had no fucking right looking that sexy with a smirk and _not_ being in Takahiro’s bed. _Really._

“What a coincidence you know this diner,” Matsukawa said, putting his chin on his folded hands. 

Takahiro stuck his tongue out and scrunched up his nose. “No such thing as coincidence. I’m beginning to think we were always meant to be friends.”

“That’s a nice thought to have. I like the idea of the universe crossing our paths all because I needed a girl off my ass about a date.”

Takahiro grinned wide and genuine. It was so comfortable to go back and forth with Matsukawa, almost crossing the border of flirting, but not quite. Everything felt _so_ easy. “And what an ass it is. Can’t say I blame her, although I will say I don’t approve of her methods.” 

Matsukawa winked at him and Takahiro felt the shock of _something_ all the way down to his toes. _Oh, that’s just not fair._ “I appeal to all, Angel.”

“Oh, is _this_ Angel? That’s _funny,_ Mattsun. Hiro is the least angelic person I know.”

Takahiro turned a radiant smile on Aki, standing in front of the booth with a hand on his hip and a shit-eating grin, like a cat who’d caught the canary. “How about you shut the fuck up and eat my ass, Akinori? You’re worse than I am and you know it,” he said pleasantly. 

Aki cackled at the eyebrow raise - his eyebrows were so thick??? How did he _do_ that?? - Matsukawa gave him. “God, Hiro, you’re such a bitch,” he said, then grinned at him. “Apple juice?”

“Oh yeah. The usual artery-clogging shit. Extra hashbrowns this time, though.” 

Aki nodded and turned to Matsukawa. “You want your usual, too?”

Matsukawa gave Aki a thumbs up and he bounced off to get their drinks. Takahiro sent a secretive middle finger after him, much to Matsukawa’s amusement. 

“So you’re friends with him?” Matsukawa asked, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed over his broad chest. Christ, Takahiro was _so_ weak to this whole meal of a man. 

He shrugged. “Not entirely by choice at first, but now yeah. His roommate’s a good friend of mine, we knew each other in high school, had an English class together and gladly reconnected. We’ve got another mutual friend if you know Aki, have you met Suga yet?”

Matsukawa’s eyes rolled back so fast Takahiro snorted, and his voice was exasperated when he responded. “Have I met Suga yet? _Fuck_ , have I. Konoha never shuts the fuck about him. He was absolutely love struck the whole time Suga was at the party last week.”

Takahiro laughed and patted the table since Matsukawa’s hand was out of reach. “There, there. You’re in good company. It’s a little gross how much they pine.” 

“Talking shit, Hiro?” Aki said, interrupting their conversation with apple juice in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. “Appy juice for bitch boy and decaf black for Mr. Man over here.”

“Ooh, appy juice,” Takahiro muttered sarcastically. He smiled up at Aki. “We were just discussing how gross you and Suga are.” 

“Honestly,” Matsukawa said, blowing on his coffee, “make a fucking move already, it’s like watching a k-drama.”

“I’m gonna spit in your refill. Suga and I are… taking it slow.”

“Real fuckin’ slow, Aki. Even ‘Kaash didn’t take that long,” Takahiro said, sipping at his apple juice and briefly reminiscing on Akaashi and his boyfriend, Ennoshita, who’d gotten together because of this very diner and a shitty coffee order. He looked over at Matsukawa to see him putting creamer in his coffee. At least _he_ was normal. 

“I already spit in your drink. Fuck you,” he spat, and Takahiro muttered “Yummy” to Aki’s disgust. “‘Iji’s always been a go-getter. I want to take my time with Suga. I think he’ll be worth it.”

Takahiro gave him a genuine smile. “I know. We’re just giving you shit, Aki.”

Aki winked and gave him the middle finger. “Love you, Hiro. Want me to tell ‘Iji you say hi?”

“Yeah, always. Tell Minato those hashbrowns better not crunch or I’m coming back there and making them myself.” 

Matsukawa snorted into his cup and Aki rolled his eyes. “Oh, he knows. He saw that atrocious bubblegum pink hair and squeaked.” 

Matsukawa chuckled and Takahiro scrunched his nose at him. “Alright, go pretend to do your job. I have a man to seduce.”

“Oh, good luck,” Aki muttered and walked away to take care of his other table. 

Takahiro made a face at his back and turned to Matsukawa, who had his - _seriously what the fuck is up with those eyebrows -_ eyebrows up and a smirk on his face. For a split second, Takahiro almost wished they’d met in a bar, so that he could’ve genuinely seduced him and taken him home. It’d been awhile since he’d taken anyone home from a bar, maybe Iwaizumi’s stranger danger lectures were starting to get to him?

“Seduce me, huh? I think I’ve been doing all the work here, Angel,” Matsukawa said, and Takahiro rolled his eyes. 

“Maybe that’s how I seduce people. If you aren’t willing to take care of my high-maintenance ass, then what’s the point? I’m not gonna do any work in bed, so why pretend otherwise?”

Matsukawa choked on his coffee, and grabbed a couple napkins. “Jesus, Takahiro, I don’t think we’re quite there yet. It’s been, like, a day.” 

He shrugged. “Why not? I’m not gonna pretend to be anyone other than myself, and I’m someone who unapologetically flirts with any breathing being at a bar, and usually ends up in a bed with someone who has to unwillingly do all the work, so you might as well prepare now for when we inevitably end up in bed together. I’m a known pillow princess, and I will not apologize for it.” 

“Oh, a pillow princess, are you? Maybe I’m a pillow princess, too, what are we going to do now?” Matsukawa said, putting his cup down on the table with a soft _clunk_. 

Takahiro snorted. As if this guy could be anything but a top. He was too powerful and his presence was too demanding for Takahiro to see him as anything else. Although… there was always the possibility of him being a power bottom. But no, he just _loomed_ too much to not be in charge. “You? A pillow princess? As if. You loom too much.” 

“Maybe that’s why I am one. I take care of others all day, maybe I want someone else to take care of me sometimes,” Matsukawa said, and Takahiro couldn’t help but lean back to process. 

He could be wrong, he didn’t actually know Matsukawa. He’d been wrong before, and he always hated to assume things about people. Maybe he _was_ a bottom. Takahiro didn’t know what kind of job he had, he didn’t even know his major. Oh, maybe he should ask about that, get a better feel for Matsukawa before making assumptions. “Well… I suppose you could be a bottom, I’ve been wrong before.” 

“Highly unlikely,” Matsukawa leaned his elbows on the table and touched Takahiro’s hand, “that you would be wrong, since you hit the nail on the head with me, Angel.”

Takahiro swiped at his arm. “Ah, see! I knew you were fucking with me. It’s the pet names that give you away, that’s such a top thing.” 

Matsukawa grinned at him, teeth digging into his bottom lip - _god, Takahiro wished those were his teeth digging into Matsukawa’s lip_ \- and simply winked before leaning back. Aki came up with their plates and set them down in front of them. “Honestly, Hiro, I can see the look on your face and it’s disgusting. Either fuck or be best friends, but make up your mind. It hurts to watch all those gears trying to turn in your head.” 

“I think we’re leaning the best friends route, Konoha, don’t worry about Takahiro having a suitor in your desperate chase for his hand,” Matsukawa said, reaching for the syrup. 

“You might be, but I’m still trying to seduce you,” Takahiro responded, and felt a flush of pleasure when Matsukawa wiggled his eyebrows. 

“Oh, ew. As if. Hiro isn’t my type. You guys need anything else?” Aki said, putting his hands on his hips and scrunching his nose in disgust. 

Takahiro shook his head and picked up his fork to start in on his hashbrowns, which were not crunchy at all, he noted with a smirk to himself. He glanced up with a forkful of hashbrowns halfway to his mouth to see Matsukawa staring at him with an odd look on his face. “What?” he asked, blushing a little and shoving the hashbrowns in his mouth. 

Matsukawa shook his head and cut into his pancakes. “Nothing. You’re just… interesting, Takahiro.” 

“Gonna take that as a compliment, Matsu,” he said around his bite of hashbrowns. “Pass me the ketchup.” 

The ketchup was passed to him and he squirted some into his hashbrowns, and a little into his eggs as well. Matsukawa gagged, and Takahiro stuck his tongue out. “Can’t believe you put ketchup in your eggs.” 

“You just lack taste,” he said, shoveling eggs into his mouth. 

“Are you implying that you lack flavor? Because I did pick you out of everyone in that cafeteria to stage kiss, keep that in your pretty little head,” Matsukawa said, and dipped his pancake piece into the pool of syrup on the side of his plate. 

Takahiro looked up at him. “Do you want me to be? Like, unofficially?” 

“Huh?” Matsukawa said, rather eloquently, with his fork in his mouth and syrup dripping off his lip. He wiped his mouth and gave Takahiro a confused look. “Be what?”

Takahiro rolled his eyes. “Keep up, Matsu. Do you want me to be your fake boyfriend until that girl gives up?” 

Matsukawa looked absolutely dumbfounded. “You… _want_ to do that? Like, you’d voluntarily be a fake boyfriend? I don’t have to pay you?” 

“No? I mean I wouldn’t turn down payment but you technically don’t have to pay me. I’ll go to parties and dinners and events and stuff with you and you can introduce me as your boyfriend, and I’ll sit and look pretty and eat all the shrimp and get a little wine drunk.” 

“You put “trophy husband” down on your career path choices form didn’t you?” Matsukawa said, holding back a grin. 

“I certainly tried. My teacher said it wasn’t a “real career choice” and that I needed to “pick something more realistic,” but what would that old bat know?” Takahiro answered, winking at him. He actually had tried to put trophy husband down, much to his mother’s horror and his sister’s amusement, but his teacher had glared him into putting down “engineer” instead. 

Matsukawa laughed, and Takahiro’s spine sparked a little. “I’ll take you up on that, Takahiro, if you’re willing to go to parties with me.” 

“Sure. I might have some major related stuff that might interfere with some frat parties, but I’m sure we can work it out easy enough.” _Did he really just agree to fake date me??? Oh this can’t be happening, but oh it is._

“Alright, then it’s a deal. You’ll be my fake boyfriend until Haya gives up, and then we’ll be friends after,” Matsukawa said, and held his hand out over the table for Takahiro to shake. 

He slapped his hand into Matsukawa’s. “Like you won’t fall in love with me at some point. But it’s a deal.” 

Matsukawa rolled his eyes, but when Aki came around to bring them the check and clear their plates, he snatched the check from Takahiro and paid, with a muttered, “The least I can do is pay for my boyfriend.” And after, Matsukawa insisted on walking him to class, and talked to him the whole way there. 

“Oh, what’s your major, by the way?” Takahiro asked off-handedly while they were walking up the steps to his class. 

“Marine biology. You?” 

“Marine biology… I bet you believe in mermaids. I’m in engineering. I like building things. The major requirements? Not so much.” 

“I do not believe in fucking mermaids, Takahiro, and nobody likes their major requirements, let’s be real. All those math classes suck,” Matsukawa said, and Takahiro grinned at him, coming to a stop outside his classroom. 

“You got a little defensive about your beliefs in mermaids, Matsu. This is my stop, by the way.” 

“I don’t fucking - y’know, it’s fine, think what you will,” he said with a hint of exhaustion, and Takahiro’s grin went a little wickeder. “Here, let me see your phone, and I’ll put my number in, so I can text you about dates and stuff.” 

One of Takahiro’s classmates happened to be walking into the room and he caught the quick quirk of her eyebrows. He knew she’d pester him for details, and sighed. “Why would I give you my phone number when you see me at 8am every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday?”

“So I can text you on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday, and Sunday, of course. Hand it over, Angel.” 

Takahiro flushed red _again_ , and handed his phone over to Matsukawa with the contact app open. He watched Matsukawa’s slender fingers dance across the screen, and let their fingers brush when he took his phone back. The universe was on his side, he thought, - he wasn’t completely correct, as his head throbbed with the remains of his hangover headache - gracing him with the phone number of the potential love of his life. He texted “Matsu <3” and watched the “hi” pop up on Matsukawa’s phone, and watched Matsukawa’s fingers fly across his own screen to add the contact under “Angel” , and flushed even redder, as if that were possible. 

“I’m gonna… be late for class,” he whispered, and started edging backwards towards the door. 

“I’ll text you,” Matsukawa muttered, and before Takahiro could make a dash for the door, Matsukawa grabbed his chin between his strong fingers - serious déjà vu for Takahiro - and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “See you, hope the hangover gets better, Angel.” 

“Yeah… see you,” Takahiro muttered in a daze, and watched Matsukawa leave the building. 

_Maybe this was either the greatest thing to ever happen or the worst, but either way, it’ll be absolutely worth it,_ Takahiro thought, pressing his fingers to his cheek and spinning around to march into class. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ketchup goes with eggs you literally cant change my mind yell all you want i said what i said


	3. PB&J

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Party party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA but here take this, with the knowledge that i've never been drunk and never been slapped ,   
> many many thanks to volleydorkscentral, my mom, GO READ HER NEW FIC! C is for Communication!

Takahiro walked into his classroom with his fingers pressed to his cheek, still reeling over the fact that  _ Matsukawa kissed him _ , and sure it was just on the cheek but he still kissed him and oh  _ God, Matsukawa kissed him and took him to breakfast and agreed to Takahiro being his fake boyfriend and oh my god this was really happening.  _

“Taka!” came the too-cheerful call from the spot under the window. He looked up to see his best friend so far in college, Hada Ayama, waving forcefully with a shit-eating grin on her cute, round face. If Takahiro wasn’t ragingly gay, he would’ve asked Ayama out the second week of classes. She was cute, with a heart-shaped face, long dark hair that curled wickedly - and on occasion looked a little swamp witchy - a soft, pouty, full mouth, cute button nose, and bright green eyes. 

He plunked into the seat next to her and slid down, face still burning.  _ Maybe Aya won’t notice _ , he thought - pointlessly; Ayama noticed everything. He glanced over at her out of the side of his eye and was greeted with her leaning forward, elbows on the table, chin in her hands, eyebrows raised high and the shit-eating grin yet to fade. He sighed heavily, and waved his hand dramatically. “Ask away, I know you want to.” 

“A lady never gossips, Taka, I am offended!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. “That you would dare accuse me of such ungodly sins! I am not a gossip!” 

“Oh please, Hada, you’re the biggest gossip I know. I get all my news from you, since you know things before anyone else does. What’s the gossip with Hanamaki today?” came another voice, across the table. Saito Naoki, Ayama and Takahiro’s - at first unwilling - project partner, slid into his chair on the other side of the table. “Get it out quick before the professor comes in and gets up our asses about talking too much,  _ again. _ ” 

Ayama’s ears turned pink. “I am not that big of a gossip, Saito, don’t be mean. Anyways! You aren’t the center of attention today.” She turned her evil, evil smile on Takahiro, who groaned, knowing he was about to get absolutely grilled. “Who was that guy who walked you to class, Taaaaaka~?” 

“Absolutely no one, Aya. Just a guy with eyebrows I happen to know,” he sighed, trying to avoid the inevitable by pulling his laptop and notebook out of his bag and vigorously avoiding eye contact. 

“Aaaah, you can’t avoid this. When I want to know something you know I find it out through whatever means necessary. He was sexy, Taka, who was he and how do you know him and why on God’s green Earth did he kiss you? Did you meet him at a party? A bar? Is he a gentlemanly one nighter? I’ve had a couple one nighters walk me to class after, I love a man with manners. Tell me more~ Taka! You know I won’t let it go.” 

“Just spill, Hanamaki, so she’ll shut up and we can get to work,” Saito said, shoving his bangs back from his forehead as he leaned over his notebook. Takahiro watched him pretend to work for a second, and shared a look with Ayama. Saito was just as much of a gossip as either of them, and pretending not to care was how he showed interest. 

Ayama rolled her eyes and whined at Takahiro while casually throwing her hand out and shoving Saito’s elbow out from under him so his arm slipped and his head slammed into the table, and he yelped. “Don’t pretend you aren’t interested, Saito, I know you’re gonna corner me after class to get information about Cami. Which, by the way, she’s going to use you because you have money. She’s a gold digger, and brags about it.” 

Saito smacked his hand on the table, rubbing his forehead with the other. “Damn. I kinda liked her.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Thank me later. Taka, don’t be a prude, what’s his name, how do you know him?” she nagged, and Takahiro pretended to give in.

“His name is Matsukawa Issei, and he’s my fake boyfriend. We met in the dining hall yesterday when he stage kissed me to the opening of Ouran High School Host Club.” Takahiro said, cracking open the water bottle from Matsukawa and pulling out his travel painkiller case. “He’s in my philosophy lecture, and his godly presence makes that class infinitely better.” He tossed a pill into his mouth and washed it down with a gulp of water. 

Ayama pressed her fingers to her mouth in thought, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back a little. Takahiro watched with infinite joy as Saito’s eyes shot immediately to the smooth line of her neck and watched as his eyes took in every inch of her and her outfit. She was wearing a cream button up blouse with a deep plunge neck, a long silver necklace with a heart, and a black and grey plaid skirt shot through with red that hit mid thigh. Her grey cardigan was slipping off one shoulder, and Takahiro could tell it was on purpose, and knew the exact reason she’d done it. “So… he’s your boyfriend?” She asked, fingers still pressed to her mouth, and Takahiro felt a rush of glee as Saito’s eyes shot to her mouth.

“Fake. I’m helping him avoid someone. A girl named… Haya? I think? He never really said.” Now that Takahiro was thinking about it, Matsukawa had never actually mentioned the name of the girl he was trying to convince he was already taken. He’d have to press him about that later. 

“Chiba Haya? Oh my god, Taka, protect poor Matsukawa! She’s a total bitch! Didn’t she try to make a move on you at that party last month, Saito?” Ayama said, pushing gently at Takahiro’s shoulder. He felt a surge of affection for her even as he watched her shove Saito’s book off the table to get his attention. 

“Yeah, but you were just drunk enough to try and start a fight, so she backed off. She’s a bitch but I haven’t heard anything about her being a homewrecker. She seems to back off if the guy she’s after has a partner,” Saito said, making a swipe at Ayama’s own textbook, which she delicately yanked away from him. He heaved a sigh and picked up his textbook. “I think that’s enough gossip for today, let’s start on our project.” 

“It absolutely is not! I wanna know more about the fake dating situation! And he kissed you?! Taka, you’re holding out on me! I want to meet him! Saito, don’t fucking look at me like that I will eat you.” 

“I’m sure he’d like that,” Takahiro said, just to see them both turn red. It was a bit cathartic to tease them both sometimes. “And anyways, I’m basically his trophy boyfriend for now, until Chiba gives up on her pointless dreams of laying her hands on a god.” 

“A god. You’re so dramatic, Hanamaki,” Saito sighed, having given up on any attempts to divert them from their gossip. Takahiro appreciated Saito’s quiet interest in his friends, though he was positive Saito would fling himself into the campus pond before admitting they were friends. 

“Oh, I don’t think you’re being dramatic at all, Taka. Gods he’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Ayama sighed, tilting her phone towards them so they could see Matsukawa’s Instagram profile pulled up.  _ She does work quick, I’ll give her that,  _ Takahiro thought, begrudgingly looking at the artsy photos Matsukawa had posted. “He looks like he could fuck me through a wall. I like that in a man.” 

Saito turned bright pink and spluttered. “Hada! Christ, don’t just say things like that!” 

Takahiro cackled and clapped his hands together. “Isn’t he, though? And he’s nice, too. He bought me breakfast and let me nap through my lecture,” he smiled, and watched Ayama grin at him, still shoving at Saito across the table. Saito got a good shove in and Ayama’s notebook fell to the floor and her elbow smacked into the table. “Stop fighting, kids, you’re distracting the other students.” 

Ayama stuck her tongue out. “I want the 411 on the kiss after class. For now, we let Saito have his way and work on our project, mostly because I have no clue what the fuck I’m doing.” 

Takahiro laughed, and they went to work on their project, Saito proving himself as team leader once again. Halfway through their class, Takahiro’s phone dinged, and he pulled it out of his pocket and almost yeeted his phone across the room. Matsukawa had texted him, as promised. 

<< _ what’s your TR schedule? >> _

Takahiro stared blankly at his phone. He had immediately forgotten everything about himself, and could do nothing but blink at his phone. He smacked at Ayama’s shoulder, where she was leaned halfway across the table, took a moment to appreciate the burning red of Saito’s cheeks and ears, and the way he pointedly avoided looking at Ayama, and then smacked her shoulder again. “Aya, what the fuck is my TR schedule?” 

“Why the fuck would I know your Tuesday Thursday classes, Taka? Don’t you have English, Physics, and History? Keep track of your own classes, god,” she said, leaning closer to read Saito’s paper, her shirt dipping lower and Saito’s cheeks getting unbelievably redder before he gave in and his eyes flicked up. 

Takahiro almost snorted when he saw Saito’s eyes go wide, and he looked aggressively up at her face, trying so hard to act like he wasn’t looking when he so obviously was. Every time his eyes flicked down, his left eye twitched and Takahiro felt another rush of glee at his struggle. The poor boy was trying so hard, and Ayama was not doing anything to make it any easier. Finally, Saito gave up. Face still bright red, he murmured, “Sit back, I’ll move over to your side.” 

Ayama’s smirk was almost too smug for Takahiro’s taste, or would’ve been if he didn’t know for a damn fact that this was her goal the whole time. It was her life’s work to fluster the shit out of Saito, and had once told Takahiro - while a little tipsy - that her goal for spring semester was to sleep with Saito. As far as Takahiro could tell, she was making large steps towards her goal, and a few steps sideways into maybe catching feelings for him in the process. He was pulled from his thoughts when his phone buzzed in his hand again. 

<< _ need to know so i dont distract you during class ;p  _ >>

He snorted. << _ bit pointless now since im in class and ur texting me  _ >> He attached a screenshot of a note with all of his classes and times on it. 

<< _ thanks angel, and pay attention in class  _ >>

<< _ why would i pay attention to my classmates flirting with each other and pretending thats not what theyre doing when i could be paying attention to you?  _ >>

It was a long moment before Takahiro got a response, just long enough that he had started to turn back to his work, and trying not to watch Ayama lean closer and closer to Saito, who either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Or, the third, more fun option, he was too flustered and had frozen in place and the only thing he could do was viciously fake that he didn’t notice. 

<< _ i know im leagues more interesting, but do your work, hiro,, for me ;)  _ >>

Takahiro let his head fall into the table, trying his damnedest to hide his burning cheeks from Ayama’s sharp eyes, but fortunately, she was distracted by Saito’s explanation of a mathematical equation that she’d been struggling with. Takahiro let Saito finish and then inserted himself back into the conversation, and they worked together to finish their work for the day, with jokes and snacks shared between them. When the professor dismissed them, Ayama bumped her shoulder against Saito’s and promptly leaned over to grab her bag. Takahiro laughed at how quickly Saito whipped away from her, and was peacefully diverted from thinking about Mataukawa. 

“Taka, I’m going to a party tonight, you down to come? I’ll need a wingman, I plan on getting laid and you know all the decent straight guys.” 

Takahiro shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. I’m not doing anything.” 

“Sweet! Saito, you coming?” Ayama turned toward him expectantly, stance a little aggressive, like she wouldn’t take no for an answer. 

“I would say no, but I know you’ll make me feel bad later, so yeah, I’ll come, but it’ll be later on.” 

“This’ll be fun!” Ayama whooped, skipping a step in front of them, the charms on her bag jingling as she bounced. Takahiro smiled warmly at her, and caught the fond sigh Saito gave, though he probably didn’t think it sounded fond. 

Takahiro could see the party already. Ayama would start out hanging around him, and then disappear into a bedroom with a drunk frat boy, return, drink half her weight and get wasted, disappear again for a longer period of time, Saito would show up, and they would have to put the fear of God into whatever poor guy who was trying to stick his hand up Ayama’s shirt, and take her home. Or, she would go home with someone else and come to class the next day, cranky as hell and in last night’s clothes, still a little drunk, and Saito would give her shit, hand her a water bottle and the “extra” sandwich he picked up in the student market before class, and take notes when she fell asleep on his jacket he had “begrudgingly” handed over to her for a pillow. 

Either way, Takahiro knew he’d have a good time, because he also planned on getting wasted, and then going home, or passing out on a couch, oblivious to the drama around him. He waved at Ayama as she and Saito split ways to go to their other classes and Takahiro made his way to the cafeteria. He had another cheesy romance anime waiting for him, and those bitchin’ baked beans were singing his name. 

~~~~~~~~~~ the party ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How much have you had to drink, Hanamaki? And when was the last time you saw Hada?” Saito was asking him, and Takahiro stared blankly at him for a minute. 

“Um…” he closed his eyes and tried to remember how many times he’d refilled his cup. “Ha! I don’t know how many drinks I’ve had, isn’t that funny?” His vision swam a little. “Oh, I think I need to sit down.” 

Saito tucked a hand around his elbow and led him to a chair. “Okay, you sit here,  _ don’t _ go anywhere, and I’m gonna go find Hada.” 

Takahiro leaned back heavily in the chair. “You know, Naoki, she wouldn’t mind if you called her Aya. All her friends call her that. You’re our friend, aren’t you?” 

Saito ruffled Takahiro’s hair with a bitter smile. “I know. I am your friend, and I’m hers, too, I just…” he sighed, “I don’t want to hurt her.” 

Takahiro smiled up at him. “Go raise hell and scare off any guy that tries to get her, she deserves better.” 

Saito saluted him and disappeared into the crowd of people with a final, “Don’t go anywhere, Hanamaki.” 

Hanamaki waved his hand lazily and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He was well past tipsy, he knew that, but he wasn’t quite drunk yet. Maybe he should get up and get another drink. No, Saito said to stay there. He’d be back soon, with Ayama in tow to take them to his apartment so they could pass out on his floor and Ayama could pretend to fall asleep in the car so Saito would carry her to the couch. He let his mind go pleasantly blank for a minute before Matsukawa’s face popped up. Takahiro smiled to himself. Yeah, they might be just fake dating, but they were going to be friends before this was over, and Takahiro didn’t think he could ask for anything more from the universe. Quite abruptly, a girl’s voice cut through his thoughts. 

“You’re Hanamaki Takahiro?” 

He opened his eyes to see a familiar face standing in front of him. Where did he know her face from? “Uh, yeah, why?” 

She stared at him for a tense moment, and then her hand swung back and she slapped him hard across the face. “Fuck you,” she spat, and stormed off. 

His face burned, and the immediate pain shot through him and he leaned over, hand cupping his jaw and cheek where her hand had landed with a sharp crack.  _ It really hurts _ , Takahiro thought, and let a few tears drop from his eyes at the sting of pain. Why had she done that? What did he do to her? 

Another girl came rushing towards him. “Oh my god, are you alright?” she asked, cool fingers gently touching his cheek. “Oh, sweetie, that’s gonna leave a mark, I’m sorry.” 

There was a sharp sting on his face, where he was sure there was a red mark forming. He looked at the girl standing in front of him, the nice one. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t slap me for no reason.” 

She pressed her cold beer can to his cheek. “Here this’ll help. I’m sorry because I know Haya and I honestly believe you probably didn’t deserve that. And that you’ll have a mark on your pretty face, sweetie. Do you have a DD here? Or a friend I can get?” 

_ Oh, Chiba Haya makes her grand reappearance.  _ Takahiro opened his mouth to say Saito’s name when Ayama blew past him, so angry she was practically vibrating. Saito was a step behind her, and grabbed her elbow. They were shouting. Saito let go of her elbow just as soon as he’d grabbed it. 

“You deserve better, Ayama!” he shouted, throwing his hands out wildly. 

Ayama whipped around, tears dripping down her face, and she wiped viciously at her face with her wrists. “You’re my better, Naoki, but you don’t want me!” She shouted back, and stomped out of the house through the back door. Saito stood dumbfounded in the kitchen before chasing after her.

“Sweetie? Anyone here I can get?” The nice girl asked. Takahiro felt a shove of relief through his chest that Ayama and Saito were finally going to settle their tension, and returned his attention to the girl. 

He pulled away. “No, I’m gonna go outside and call someone.” 

She nodded. “I’ll walk you out. Come on. Up we go,” she said, wrapping her hands around Takahiro’s arm and helping him stand up. He leaned on her shoulder and waited for his head to stop spinning and the world to right itself.

She walked him to the door and out to the sidewalk. He thanked her for her help and got a nonchalant wave of her hand in response. “Oh, it’s my party, I do have to be somewhat responsible. You be safe, sweetie.” 

“Thank you,” he said again, and turned to walk down the street. Halfway down, it hit him that he was walking alone, drunk, in the dark, and hadn’t actually thought about calling anyone. He didn’t have any clue where he was, and Ayama and Saito were probably duking it out in that nice girl’s backyard. 

He froze on the sidewalk, and pulled his phone out. The first thing to pop up when he opened it was the text from Matsukawa several hours ago, saying << _ have fun at the party!  _ >>

He called him immediately. After two rings, the phone clicks. “H’llo?” Came Matsukawa’s sleepy voice.  _ Oh, it must be late _ .

“Issei-“ Takahiro couldn’t get the words out. They kept getting caught in his throat and he just gasped and let out a rough sob. 

“Hiro? What’s wrong, angel?” Matsukawa's voice was comforting and Takahiro felt his chest get looser when he heard it, and allowed it to sink into him. 

“I-“ he gasped again, and sat down on the sidewalk. “She just-“ he sobbed, and a part of him hated himself for it. “Pick me up, please,” he got out, and the response was immediate. 

“Of course. Of course, where are you? I’m on my way.” Matsukawa said, and Takahiro sobbed in relief. 

“Dunno, um, 5th and-“ he glanced up and found a street sign, “Maple. On the side-“ his breath caught in his throat and he stopped. 

“I’m on my way. Do you want me on the phone?” 

He shook his head, and remembered Matsukawa couldn't see him. “No. ‘M fine.” 

“Alright. I’m 5 minutes away. Stay put, I’ll be there soon, angel.” 

The phone clicked and Takahiro pulled it away from his ear and pulled his knees up to his chest, burying his face in his knees. He let tears fall down his face, and thought - with a bitter amusement - that at least he wasn’t alone in crying tonight. He hoped Ayama and Saito would work things out, or things were going to get really awkward. 

The five minutes passed much faster than Takahiro thought they would, because the next thing he knew, warm hands were touching his ankles. “Angel? Takahiro, look at me, are you alright?” 

He looked up to see Matsukawa in front of him, and a pressure in his chest he hadn’t even noticed lifted almost instantly. He sighed and shifted to lean into Matuskawa’s chest. “I’m okay. Tired, face hurts. Should probably eat something. Wanna sleep.” 

“Alright,” Matsukawa said, and Takahiro gasped at the sudden sensation of being lifted up, Matsukawa’s hands tucked tight under his knees and around his back. “We’re going to my place, okay? Text whoever you came with, so they know you’re safe.” 

He put Takahiro down in the passenger seat of his car, and leaned over him to click his seatbelt. Takahiro curled his hand around Matsukawa’s bicep. “Thanks,” he murmured, and Matsukawa clicked his tongue. 

“I’m glad you called. When you’re ready, I’ll listen,” he said, and pulled away, letting Takahiro’s hand fall from his bicep. He went around to the other side of the car, and sat in the driver’s seat and restarted the car. 

Once they were on the road, Takahiro pulled his phone out and texted Saito about him leaving with Matsukawa. He didn’t get a response, which he hoped was for a good reason. He let the pop music playing softly wash over him, closed his eyes, and dozed off. When he woke up again, he was in Matsukawa’s arms again, and they were going up steps. 

Instead of acknowledging that he was awake, he closed his eyes and pushed his nose into Matsukawa’s neck. Matsukawa’s hands shifted, and suddenly Takahiro was being held against his body with one arm while he used the other to unlock and open his door. Takahiro snorted a laugh. “Are you really holding me up with one fuckin’ hand?” 

Matsukawa chuckled and bounced him gently. “Impressed?” 

“A little bit,” Takahiro said, tightening his arms around Matsukawa’s shoulders. “Can I sleep now?” 

“Gotta eat first,” Matsukawa said, the door clicking shut behind them. “Don’t want to be sick in the morning, do you?” 

“But I’m tired,” Takahiro whined, right against Matsukawa’s ear, and was almost dropped because of how hard Matsukawa flinched.

“You’re not throwing up in my bathroom, Hiro. Come on, kitchen. I’ll make you a PB&J and you’ll drink some water and then you can go to bed.” 

Takahiro was placed gently on a stool and leaned against the counter while Matsukawa threw together a sandwich for him, and filled a cup up with water. He smiled up at Matsukawa when the sandwich and cup were placed in front of him. “Thaaanks~” he sang, and bit into the sandwich.

Matsukawa watched as he ate it, hip pressed into the counter. When he was finished he drank half the cup in one go, took a breath, and finished it. “That was the best PB&J I’ve ever had in my life,” he told Matsukawa, completely serious. 

Matsukawa scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Drama queen. Let’s go, you can borrow some of my stuff to sleep in.” 

Takahiro followed behind him easily, yawning and rubbing at his eyes. His hand bumped his cheek and it stung again. “Ow!” 

Matsukawa whipped around. “What is it?”

Takahiro touched his cheek gently. There must not have been a mark. He’d always been a freakishly quick healer. “Haya slapped me at the party, it still stings a little,” he muttered. 

Matsukawa was very quiet for a moment, and Takahiro glanced up at him. His eyes were closed and a muscle in his jaw jumped. “She what?” He asked quietly. 

Takahiro swallowed. “She… slapped me.” 

“What did she say?” Matsukawa questioned, and Takahiro was a little put off by how calm he was being about the whole thing. 

“Just…’fuck you,’ and then stormed off. Matsu, I’m tired,” he said, and Matsukawa inhaled sharply. 

“Right, it’s well past bedtime. We’ll deal with the rest in the morning.” 

Takahiro sighed softly in relief, and pulled his hand away from his cheek. Matsukawa led him into the bedroom, and opened drawers to hand him a shirt and shorts. Takahiro took them and stripped immediately, much to Matsukawa’s amusement, as he turned around laughing. When Takahiro moved to go out to the living room, Matsukawa stopped him. “Nope, you get the bed.”

“I’m not taking your bed.” 

“Yes, you are. Lay down. I’ll be on the couch if you need something. Get some sleep, Hiro.” 

Takahiro huffed, but sat down on the bed anyways, arms crossed and pouting. Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

“I like it better when you call me angel,” he said, still pouting. 

Matsukawa stepped up to the bed and pressed a soft kiss to Takahiro’s forehead. “Goodnight, angel.” 

  
Takahiro smiled, smug and pleased. “Goodnight, Matsu.” He easily curled up in Matsukawa’s bed, surrounded by the smell of his laundry detergent and the lingering scent of the ocean and sandalwood. He buried his nose in the soft blankets, and fell asleep quickly, thinking absentmindedly to himself -  _ the only thing missing is Matsukawa. _


	4. soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chicken noodle soup and a revelation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i ,,,,, am so sorry tbh im horrible about timing with these sorts of things, but ,, well, here it is!!

The instant Takahiro opened his eyes, he groaned and closed them again. _Absolutely not,_ he thought, as his head throbbed and soft sunlight assaulted his eyes. His head pulsed above his eyebrow and he could feel the headache coming on. He rolled over to take the pressure off of the left side of his head, and was greeted with a low voice. 

“Ah, you’re awake,” came the soothing sound of Matsukawa’s voice, followed by the cold press of a water bottle against his cheek. 

“You always swoop in with water when I need you, my hero, my savi- oh god I’m gonna throw up,” Takahiro whimpered, before he even had a chance to open the water bottle. 

“On it,” Matsukawa said, and there were hands lifting him slowly up so he could lean over the side of the bed and throw up into the waiting trash can. The man was prepared. 

“Don’t suppose you’ve got any soup anywhere,” Takahiro said, eyes scrunched shut, as he wiped his mouth with his hand and then stared at it when he realized he couldn’t possibly wipe it on Matsukawa’s bedsheets. “Matsu, I-”

A washcloth appeared in his hand, and then footsteps padded out of the room. “You like chicken noodle?” 

Takahiro _loved_ chicken noodle soup. He swung his legs over the bed to stand up and follow Matsukawa into the kitchen, and didn’t get much farther than _standing up_ before his legs collapsed underneath him, and he was in a heap on the floor by the bed. His cheek chose that moment to come back with a dull, painful vengeance, and he couldn’t help but spare a bitter thought towards Haya. His ass hurt now, too, and his stomach churned. 

The trashcan was back in front of him, and the waft of last night’s shitty beer made him puke again. Matsukawa came back into the room, and sighed on seeing Takahiro in a heap on the floor, forehead leaned against the edge of the trashcan. 

“I had hoped the thud wasn’t what I thought it was, but it would seem I was right.” 

“I hear food, and I follow. I’m disgustingly easy to kidnap. Can you help me back up in the bed?” 

“What else would you have a strong, beefy boyfriend for? Gonna raincheck the soup and say you need to sleep longer,” Matsukawa said - _really, Takahiro, you might as well call him Issei in your head, he is your fake boyfriend_ \- and took Takahiro’s hands to help pull him up and guide him the few inches to the bed, where he promptly slumped into the pillows. 

Matsu- _Issei_ turned to walk out of the room, and Takahiro grabbed at his hand with a whispered, “No, wait.” 

Issei turned his head. “Hm?” 

Takahiro flushed and let go of his hand. “Ah, nevermind. I’ll just, go back to sleep. Are you sure I’m okay to stay here?” 

Issei waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, you’re fine. I’m off work, and no classes on Saturdays. Sleep as long as you need, Angel.” 

“Thanks, Issei,” he murmured, and fell back into the warm clutches of sleep. Issei would be there when he woke up, he was sure of that. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Issei was indeed there when he woke up, sitting back against the headboard next to him in the bed, one hand in Takahiro’s hair and the other scrolling through his phone while the TV played softly in the background. Takahiro took a moment to just look at him, to take him in. He was a comforting presence for Takahiro, sturdy and warm, and something about him screamed safety to Takahiro. Maybe it was that he had dropped everything to come and pick up Takahiro from a party at God knows what hour of the night, and had made him food, and let him sleep in his bed. He didn’t have to do that. He could’ve slept through Takahiro’s phone call, he could’ve said no when Takahiro suggested fake dating, he could’ve picked literally anyone else in that cafeteria. But he didn’t. 

He must’ve shifted or something, because suddenly Issei was looking down, eyebrow quirked up. He looked back at Takahiro for a long, quiet moment - _the quiet felt so right_ \- before the corner of his mouth curled up. “See something you like?” he quipped, and Takahiro couldn’t help the eye roll. 

“A disappointing abundance of shirts,” he quipped back, a challenge in his words. “Also, I didn’t throw up in your bathroom.” 

“Kudos to you for that one. It’s much appreciated, and I’m glad you remember last night. I wanted to talk to you about something you said.” 

Takahiro peeled himself out of the sheets and away from Issei, sitting up. “About Haya?” 

“Yeah. You said she slapped you, and I feel it’s only fair to explain-”

“Do explain, yes, because we do need to talk about this whole thing, but I was promised chicken noodle soup so I would like chicken noodle soup,” Takahiro said, his stomach growling at him. “Also, what time is it?” 

“About 5pm. You sleep like the dead, Hiro.” 

“What can I say, your bed is comfortable,” Takahiro tossed over his shoulder as he walked out of Issei’s bedroom. “Now where might a poor little boy find some soup in this house?

“The poor little boy may find soup in the cupboard to the left of the fridge. Bowls are above the sink and silverware is the drawer next to the dishwasher,” Issei said. 

“Oh good,” Takahiro said, cracking the soup can open and grabbing a spoon. He perched himself on the counter and faced Issei. “Now. Explain yourself and your desperate need to keep Chiba Haya away.”

“You’re really just gonna eat that soup straight out of the can, huh? Well,” Issei said, leaning against the counter next to Takahiro, “the abbreviated version is that I’m a raging gay, and Haya doesn’t seem to get the raging gay part, and refuses to believe our mutal friends who have only ever seen me exclusively date men. She’s been chasing after me for the better part of the past three years, despite constant rejection and turn downs. I figure if I make it obvious that I’m in a relationship and gay, she’ll give up, but last night seems to say otherwise.” 

“Yeah, that shit hurt. What I’m gathering from this is that she’s homophobic, first of all, and second of all, a fucking bitch. I am glad to be of assistance in finalizing her rejection,” he said, and shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth. 

Issei snorted. “I figured you’d be on my side. You let me kiss you and you didn’t even know who I was.” 

“Bullshit! You didn’t even actually kiss me! That was just a stage kiss, and I, for one, am frankly disappointed. Hey your phone’s been going ape shit for a hot minute, you gonna answer that?” 

“Yes, yes, I owe you one real kiss,” Issei said, mockingly, and leaned across Takahiro to grab his aggressively vibrating phone. Takahiro blinked down at Issei’s torso stretched across his lap. _That’s a nice visual_. “Ah, it’s the guys. They’re asking how you’re feeling. Or, well, Dai’s asking how you feel and the others are giving me shit about not telling them sooner.”

Takahiro chuckled and put his elbow on Issei’s shoulder to peek at his phone. “Tell Dai that I’m feeling better, and we should make up a lie for the others, unless you’re gonna tell them it’s a fake relationship?”

“Oh fuck no, they’d never let me hear the end of it. ‘Can’t even get a real boyfriend? Wow, such weak game, Issei.’ I’m not putting up with that shit. Been dating for a week? Met in the cafeteria - cause that’s true - and mutually hit on each other and decided to give it a shot?” 

Takahiro nodded and tilted his head so his uninjured cheek pressed against the top of Issei’s head. “Works for me,” he said, scraping the last of the noodles out of the can. “I kinda told Aya and Saito that it was fake, but Aya’ll keep her mouth shut and Saito’ll do whatever she tells him to. Oh! I wonder if they solved that fight last night. Where’s my phone, I need to text Aya.” 

“Here, I’ll get it,” Issei said, and pulled away from Takahiro after gently patting his shoulder. He disappeared into his bedroom and Takahiro slid off the counter to find the trash can and rinse his spoon off in the sink. Issei came back with a grin on his face and handed Takahiro his phone. “I think you’ll like this.” 

Takahiro raised an eyebrow, took his phone, looked down, and screeched. “NO!! THEY FUCKING DIDN’T!” He opened his phone as quickly as he could and pulled open the messages from Aya. One was dated from last night, and was a bunch of aggressive winky faces, and the other was dated from this morning, and was merely a picture of Aya in a bed, Saito’s head buried in her chest and his arms wrapped tight around her. She was clearly not wearing clothes, and the caption read << _i told u so_ >>. “Oh my fucking god. Look at this shit Issei, they fucking slept together! It’s about fucking time!” 

He aggressively typed out a message to Aya, and got an immediate response. << _YOU LUCKY BITCH PLS FOR THE LOVE OF CHRIST TELL ME UR DATIN NOW_ >>

<< _YES WE ARE HOLY SHIT WE’RE ON A DATE RN_ >>

<< _!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! STOP TEXTING ME OMFG_ >>

“Hiro, what are you doing for spring break?” Issei’s voice broke into his excited little mind screech. 

“Hm? Oh, nothing. Was just gonna go lay around the house and annoy my mom. Why?”

“You wanna go to the Ozarks? Me and the guys are going and they wanna meet you, if you’re okay with that?” 

Takahiro leaned his head back and smiled at Issei. “A week with my boyfriend and his friends? Sure, I don’t see why not. I’ll pick up a couple extra shifts in the next few weeks so I can pay my part and have money left for fun stuff.” 

Issei smiled back at him, cheeks a little pink. “Boyfriend, huh?” 

“Sure, gotta get used to it, right? If I’m gonna hold up to your friends.” 

Issei grinned at him. “I’ll text you the details and you can go from there. Wanna do dinner, or are you about ready to go home?” 

“I should probably go back to my place so my roommate knows I’m alive, or whatever. I’m surprised he hasn’t-” his phone started ringing, interrupting him, “-oh there it is.” 

He held up a finger to Issei, who nodded, and answered the phone. “Yes, mom?”

“That’s never been funny, Takahiro, where are you? You never came home from the party but Saito and Hada said you were fine?” Hajime answered, to Takahiro’s amusement. 

“I’m fine, my uh,” he glanced up at Issei and then looked down at the counter, “my boyfriend picked me up.” 

There was silence for a very long moment and Takahiro choked down a laugh and switched the phone to speaker, waving Issei over. “Your… what?” 

“My boyfriend,” he answered, trying so hard not to laugh at Hajime’s dead tone. Issei raised his eyebrows and made an exaggerated mind blown motion with his hands. It took every inch of willpower Takahiro had not to snort. 

“Your boyfriend,” Hajime said, and Takahiro heard a mumble from another person in the background. 

“Yes, my boyfriend. Is that Oikawa? Tell him I said hi. Issei’s gonna drop me off at home in a bit if you wanted to meet him?” 

Hajime made a little choked noise. “No, To-Oikawa is not here, and yes, I want to meet this sudden boyfriend, who I never heard anything about before this phone call. What time are you gonna be home?” 

Takahiro smirked, “Oh, about 30 minutes or so, he lives on the other side of town. And I don’t tell you everything, Hajime.”

“Okay, cool. Door’ll be open.” 

“Yep. Bye-bye, Mommy,” he chirped, and Issei threw in his own, “Bye, Mom.” 

“Was that-” Hajime started to say, and Takahiro clicked the end call. 

“Well, it’s time to go fuck up my roommate’s life. I guess you just got roped into it, sorry about that.” 

Issei shrugged, and moved towards the door. “I’m not doing anything else today, and it sounds fantastic to prank someone I don’t even know.” 

Takahiro laughed. “Great minds think alike, huh?”

Issei smirked, and held the door open for Takahiro with a bow. “After you, angel.” 

He blew a kiss and threw his jacket over his shoulder. “Thanks, darling. Let’s go fuck with Hajime.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride was only two minutes, to Takahiro’s delight - it was walking distance and Hajime wouldn’t have nearly enough time to clear Oikawa out of the apartment - and a fun ride. Issei was easy to talk to, and good at keeping conversations going. The car ride and the giggling walk up to the third floor apartment only further cemented his yes for the spring break trip. 

Takahiro opened the door to his apartment as quietly as he could, and put his finger to his lips at Issei, who grinned wickedly back. Tip toeing through the apartment, he went to Hajime’s door and flung it open to see Hajime at his desk and Oikawa sprawled across the bed. “HA! Hajime, you liar!” 

Hajime jolted so hard he slammed his knee into his desk, and Oikawa let out a shriek and fell off the bed with a thump and a groan. “Takahiro, what the fuck?!” Hajime yelped.

Takahiro laughed so hard tears came out, and he had to lean back against Issei. “Oh my god, I knew it. I can’t believe you’re cheating on me Hajime, I thought you loved me!” he cried, overdramatic and breathless, unable to stop laughing. 

Hajime gave him a judgemental look. “Like you have room to talk, with that new boyfriend of yours. Is this him?”

Takahiro stuck his tongue out at Hajime. “Hajime, this is Matsukawa Issei, Issei, this is my roommate and resident mom friend, Iwaizumi Hajime.” 

“Mattsun?” Oikawa said, using Hajime’s thigh to pull himself up. “Oh my god, small world.” 

“Oh, Jesus,” Issei said, dropping his head into Takahiro’s shoulder. “Small world indeed. Hiro, Tooru and I went to high school together.” 

Takahiro started cackling again, and Hajime put his head in his hands. “Why me?” He muttered, shaking his head. “Of course they know each other. Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they? Of course Takahiro comes home earlier than expected, when has he not? Why _me?_ ” 

Takahiro wheezed and smacked his palm against Issei’s chest. “Oh, poor Hajime, poor baby. Work it out, you’ll be fine. I’m going on a trip with Issei for spring break, so you’re on your own for your parents. Sorry, babe.” 

Hajime pursed his lips. “Yeah, about that…”

Takahiro gasped. “Hajime, you nasty little rebel! You’re going on a trip with Oikawa, aren’t you?!” 

He turned bright red and Oikawa made a choked noise. “You’re too good at that, Makki!” He whined. 

“I think it’s kinda sexy of you, angel,” Issei said against his ear, and Takahiro smirked at the little shiver of pleasure down his spine. 

“Thanks, darling. Well, I guess that’s our cue to leave you guys to your dirty deeds. No need to be quiet, I’ll be putting my headphones in.” 

Takahiro slammed the door shut on Hajime’s bellow of “Shut the hell up, Takahiro!” and Oikawa’s shriek of “Makki!!” and turned a bright grin on Issei. 

“Well. That was quite an adventure. I love being right,” Takahiro said, and Issei grinned back, with a huff of laughter and a shake of his head. 

“I have a feeling that happens a lot. Alright, this is my cue to leave. I’ll see you later, and keep me updated on travel decisions.” Issei paused and looked Takahiro over, one hand on the doorknob. “Hey, c’mere.”

Takahiro stepped closer, and Issei grabbed his wrist to pull him even closer. “Oh, hi,” Takahiro said, suddenly inches away from Issei. 

“Hi, angel,” Issei whispered, and abruptly leaned forward to press his lips to Takahiro’s forehead. “I’ll text you later, yeah?” 

Takahiro felt a dumb smile float across his face. “Yeah,” he said, leaning against the doorway as Issei left. He waved dreamily when Issei turned around for a second, and closed the door when he was out of sight. 

He slid down the door, sitting on the floor with his back pressed against it. He buried his face in his hands and made a high-pitched, _embarrassing_ squeaky sound in his throat. God, this trip was going to be amazing. Hajime cleared his throat, and he looked up to see Oikawa with his arm slung over Hajime’s shoulders. 

“Gotta go home, Makki, beep it,” he said, poking Takahiro with his toes. 

“You totally got that from me,” he quipped, standing up and moving to his room. “Have some privacy for your loving goodbye kiss, ya nasties.” 

They both groaned at him and he chuckled as he walked into his room, flinging himself onto his bed. A few minutes later, Hajime knocked and came in. “You really like him, huh? Why didn’t I hear about him before?” 

He sat up and leaned into his pillows. “Dunno, I wasn’t sure it’d really go somewhere. We’ve only been dating for a week, and I was scared to hype him up and then have him break my heart, y’know?” He felt a small twinge of guilt, having to lie to Hajime, but he told Oikawa everything, and Oikawa was notorious for having a big mouth, and if he knew Issei then there was a high probability of them having some mutual friends. 

Hajime chuckled. “Yeah, I know. You haven’t dated anyone seriously in awhile, do you think this is going to be serious?” 

He paused to think about it, grabbing his stuffed cat, Sir Meowsalot. He sort of did want this to be a serious relationship, now that he was thinking about it. He knew it was fake, but maybe… 

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s really, genuinely nice, and seems to want the same things from me. He hasn’t even kissed me yet, can you believe it?”

Hajime raised his eyebrows. “Oh wow. Looks like he’s in it for the long run, too. Shittykawa said he’s a nice guy, so you’ve got my stamp of approval so far. Keep me updated, yeah? I’m here for you, Hiro.” 

Takahiro grinned at him. “You’re such a big softie, Haj. C’mere, I wanna give you a big ole hug!” 

“Oh fuck no, don’t touch me, you demon. Fend for yourself for dinner, I already ate,” Hajime said, stomping out of his room to Takahiro’s laughter and shutting the door behind him. 

Takahiro sighed. Who knew what tomorrow would bring? Something new, for sure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i eat my soup out of the can. i will not apologize.


	5. salt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its so short, its been so long since i've been on a roadtrip i kinda,,, forgot? how they work? shit got me FUCKED UP  
> anyways! i hope you all are doing alright, and i love you guys <3  
> ,,,,,,, if you read this before i fixed it, i’m so sorry, i forgot my own goddamn plot line, and it’s fixed now 😤

“So basically,” Takahiro said, trying to balance his suitcase on his feet while Issei watched with amusement, sat next to him on the train, “your friends don’t think I’m real.”

“Yeah. Kuroo is swearing up and down that I made you up just to get them to stop giving me shit. Dai and I have $20 on whether he’s gonna try to put his hand through you or not. Mori said he’ll scream.” Issei said, and pushed the finally balanced suitcase off Takahiro’s feet with his finger.

“Uh, rude. And I’m with Mori. I’ll slap his shoulder or something when I see him. Which one is he again?”

“Please do. Kuroo’s the bedhead, Ted’s the redhead, Dai looks like a hot, single dad, and Mori looks like an angel but is…?” Issei looked at him, eyebrow raised. 

Takahiro pointed his finger up and recited, “But is the devil incarnate.” 

“Correct! See, you’ll do fine, Hiro, trust me.”

Takahiro watched a haggard looking father grab his daughter before she could flip over the armrest of her seat. Issei snorted, and Takahiro knew he’d just watched the same thing. They were a little uncanny like that. In the first few weeks, Takahiro would turn to point out a stranger who’d tripped on the sidewalk, or the stutter in their Philosophy professor’s voice, only for Issei to nudge him with an elbow and a finger already lifted to point, or already chuckling in that direction. 

He was patient, too, and Takahiro’s heart had tripped over itself when he accidentally went off on a 45 minute tangent about the differences in salt types, and Issei just… _let him,_ and seemed actually interested, making a “go on” motion with his hand when Takahiro paused. 

“Hiro?” Takahiro jolted in his seat when Issei slid his fingers against Takahiro’s neck. “There you are, angel, lost you for a second.” 

“Mm, sorry. Was thinkin’.” He tilted his head forward a little to allow Issei’s fingers more space to spread. 

“What about?” Issei asked, obliging Takahiro’s wordless request by spreading his fingers wider and rubbing his fingertips into his skin.

Takahiro smiled sweetly at Issei. “You, of course. And the differences in salt, again.”

Issei’s ears went pink, and he rolled his eyes fondly. “You and your salt.”

“Salt type makes-”

“All the difference in a spell and in cooking, yes, I know. Ah, our stop’s coming up. Got all your stuff?”

Takahiro felt a rush of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on at the fact that Issei had remembered that part of his rant. He slid his hand into Issei’s. “Yep!”

Issei looked at their hands for a long moment, opened his mouth, seemed to think better of it, and closed it again. The train lurched to a stop and people started filtering to the opening doors. 

Takahiro shrugged his bag up a little higher on his shoulder and adjusted his grip on his suitcase. “Well, here we go,” he breathed. 

Issei gave him a soft smile, squeezed his hand and stepped closer. “They’ll like you, because I like you, angel.” 

Takahiro bumped their shoulders together and smiled back. “I know.” 

The second they stepped off the train and onto the platform, there was a shriek, a _smack_ , and a yell of “I _TOLD_ YOU HE WAS REAL!” 

Issei snorted. “ _That’s_ Ted.” 

Takahiro grinned. “Sounds fun.”

“MATTSUN! WALK FASTER! DAD’S GETTING ANTSY!” 

“I am not! We’re just a little behind schedule and I don’t want to be late for check-in.”

Issei shouldered up to the group, immediately kicking at the lanky guy with the bad bedhead, who yelped, - _Kuroo_ , Takahiro thought - and then turned towards the dense, stocky guy and said, “Chill out, Dad, we’re on time.”

Takahiro snickered and they all turned towards him. Flushing a little under the sudden attention, he glanced around at all of them. There was Kuroo, the tall, lanky bedhead who had an arm slung over a small, strawberry blond guy who had to be Mori, because he was maybe the cutest guy Takahiro’d ever met, and he knew Oikawa Tooru, who he assumed was Ted, the redhead standing next to Kuroo with a mildly off-putting grin, the beefy guy, Dai, - he did look like a hot, single dad. Pulling his suitcase up next to him, he stuck his hand out to Kuroo with a pleasant smile. 

“Hi. I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, Issei’s very real boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you.” Issei choked down a laugh, and he heard a giggle from Ted’s direction. 

Kuroo narrowed his eyes and took Takahiro’s hand, looking surprised when his hand connected and Takahiro shook it. “Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Takahiro nodded, and turned his head to Issei. “Bedhead.” Issei nodded. 

Then, without warning, Kuroo slammed his hand into Takahiro’s chest, yelping when it connected with a _thwack_ sound. 

Issei held his hand out to Dai. “I believe you owe me twenty dollars?”

Takahiro yanked down on their joined hands, forcing him to lose his balance and stumble into Takahiro’s side. Before he could put his betrayal into words, Takahiro looked to the redhead cackling in amusement. 

“I can’t imagine how you ended up with a name like Ted.”

Issei let go of Takahiro’s hand and threw his hands up, turning around to walk away dramatically. “I don’t know any of you, don’t talk to me.”

The others started laughing loudly, getting dirty looks from passersby. Finally, Daichi stood up straight and caught his breath enough to explain to a confused Takahiro. “His name’s actually Tendou Satori, but Mattsun once mistyped his name as “Tednou” while drunk and it just kinda stuck, so here we are. I’m Sawamura Daichi, Daichi or Dai, and this is Yaku Morisuke, Yaku or Mori, by the way.” 

Takahiro nodded. “That makes more sense. It’s nice to meet you guys.” He turned around to reach for Issei, who was pouting a few feet away. “Issei~” he called, putting a little whine into the breathy pitch of his voice. Issei turned immediately. 

“Holy shit, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him turn around so fast,” Yaku said, and sent the others into another laughing fit. 

“Oh, come _on!_ ” Issei said, and turned back around. Takahiro sighed and stepped over to drape himself across Issei’s shoulders and back. 

“If it’s any consolation,” he said into Issei’s ear, “I think that’s fucking hilarious.”

Issei leaned back into Takahiro’s chest. “You think so? I was pretty drunk when I sent it.” 

Takahiro pressed his lips to the skin under Issei’s ear. “I do. Now come on, so we can get going on this road trip.” 

Issei sighed, and let Takahiro step away and back towards the group. “Alright, kids, let’s hit the road in Kuroo’s shitty Nissan.” 

“Hey, shut up! Lauren’s the best and you know it.” 

“Yeah, she is, but she’s kinda shitty man, what with the door handle and the wonky window.” 

“Ted, I will end you if you say another bad thing about Lauren. She’s the love of my life and I refuse to hear this blasphemy.”

Takahiro chuckled as Kuroo and Tendou went back and forth, and leaned a little closer when Issei threw his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, look at that.” 

Takahiro hummed, and looked where Issei was pointing, at Kuroo and Yaku, who were all over each other, arms around waists and heads leaned together. “Ew, we don’t look like that, do we?”

“Nah, not nearly as handsy,” Issei said, and they both cringed a little when Yaku’s hand slid a little lower on Kuroo’s waist. “Not even close.” 

After another long argument between Kuroo and Tendou, they came up to a silver mini-van that Takahiro assumed was “Lauren.” 

“Shotgun!” Tendou called, and everyone shrugged, as if that was a given. 

Issei and Daichi stared each other down. Takahiro glanced at Issei, shrugged and climbed into the third row of the van. “Are you coming, or I am sharing with Yaku?” He asked Issei. 

Kuroo sighed with relief from the driver’s seat. “Thank you, Hanamaki, for ending four years of traditional road trip fights.”

Issei slid into the seat next to him and pressed their shoulders together. Takahiro flopped his head over and grinned at him, only to be slightly caught off-guard by the soft look on Issei’s face. Takahiro snorted. “Weirdo, what are you looking at?”

“Oh my god, Daichi,” he heard Yaku whisper, “he’s _smiling.”_

Issei winked at Takahiro and slammed his fist into the back of Yaku’s seat. “My cute boyfriend, that’s what I’m looking at, Angel.” 

Takahiro felt his face burn. Issei calling him angel when it was just them or over text was one thing, but in front of all his friends? People Takahiro’d only just met? It made his stomach flip and his fingertips tingle. “Shut up,” he murmured, shoving his hand in Issei’s face. 

Issei laughed and settled back into his seat, throwing his arms across the back of their seats. “Alright losers, let’s hit the road. I’m ready to take a nap.” 

“If you snore I’m kicking you out,” Kuroo called. 

“Ew, you snore?” Takahiro said, letting his head fall against Issei’s shoulder. Issei curled his arm around Takahiro and tucked him a little closer. 

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” Issei said, and Kuroo groaned and turned up the music. 

Takahiro chuckled, and let their bright energy wash over him. He fell asleep easily, not a thought in his head beyond the warmth of Issei’s arm around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i'm taking votes now: only one bed in the hotel room or two beds but they shove them together?


	6. sunscreen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! i know this took an awfully long time for me to finish, but life happened, and im thankfully back on track ( a little). hope you enjoy it! love y'all!

13 hours later, Takahiro was being shaken awake by Yaku, with Tendou leaning over his shoulder, phone up. Takahiro pouted at the camera. “That’s rude,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

“Dude, you slept for a solid 10 hours, you know that, right?” Tendou said, posting the video to his Snapchat. “We tried to wake you up but you slept through everything, even Kuroo screaming along to _Garbage Truck_ , which is, in and of itself, extremely impressive.”

“Honestly, it’s mind blowing, he gets so loud, my ears start to hurt through my headphones,” Yaku said, climbing out of the van so Takahiro could get out as well. 

They were pulled up to the hotel, and Takahiro could see Daichi and Issei up at the front desk, probably checking in. The girl at the receptionist desk was all pink and giggly in Issei’s direction, which Takahiro frowned at. He let Yaku hand him his suitcase and backpack, and made a beeline inside. He immediately wrapped himself around Issei, sliding his arms around his chest. “I’m tired,” he muttered into Issei’s shoulder blade. 

“Hi, Tired, I’m dad,” Daichi said, and they both groaned at him. 

“Bad joke, mate,” Issei said, and Takahiro nodded in agreement. “Anyways, yep, the reservation’s under Kuroo Tetsurou, you got it?” 

“Oh, Kuroo like the owners! That’s pretty cool,” the girl said, fingers flying over her keyboard. Kuroo walked in, and froze mid-step when he saw the girl at the front desk. “Got it! Rooms 308 and 310! Here’s your keys!”

Daichi took the keys, and Issei shifted, using his and Takahiro’s bodies to shield Kuroo from view. “Ha, yeah, what a coincidence. Thanks, Ava, it’s much appreciated.” 

She leaned forward in a move Takahiro recognized a little too well, and he felt a wave of jealousy. In response, he shoved his hand into Issei’s front pocket, where he knew the girl would see it. She glanced down and leaned back with a twitch of her eyebrow. “Yeah, no problem. You guys enjoy your stay!” 

They nodded, and Takahiro watched in amusement as Kuroo angled Yaku’s pillow so that it was covering his face while he hurried around the corner to the elevators. Issei put one arm back and grabbed the strap of Takahiro’s bag and pulled him along. Takahiro went limp and let Issei drag him along. Who was he to argue with an excuse not to walk. Kuroo sighed and sagged against the elevator wall once they were inside. Yaku snorted, and Tendou rolled his eyes. 

“It’s not like everyone’s going to recognize you at every hotel your parents own,” Tendou said, flicking Kuroo’s forehead. 

“Yeah, but they might. I know Mom likes to put up those family business pictures of us practically everywhere, and I’d rather not run the risk of getting pulled into a conversation about complaints and shit like last time.” 

The guys all inhaled sharply. “Mm, yeah true. That phone call to Mother kinda put a damper on the trip,” Yaku said, poking at Kuroo to get him to move out of the elevator. “She’s always so business-like about everything, which is efficient, but not always great for the mood, especially since we were a little tipsy.” 

“Yeah…” Issei sighed, still dragging Takahiro - who was listening raptly - along. He came to a stop outside room 308, and handed the card for 310 to Daichi, who took it and opened the door with Tendou on his heels. They heard a loud “Shit!” and _thunk_ from the other room, and Takahiro and Yaku looked at each other and rolled their eyes and Yaku went in to presumably do damage control. “Anyways,” Issei said, sliding his own key in the door with a solid _click,_ “Hiro, the rooms connect, so we’ll probably sleep with the- Oh.” 

“Oh?” Takahiro said, lifting his head up. “Oh,” he breathed, upon seeing the single bed in the room. Issei cleared his throat and turned towards Kuroo, who had his hands folded behind his back and was pointedly not looking at either of them.

“I feel like this is your fault,” Issei said, letting go of Takahiro’s backpack to cross his arms over his chest. Takahiro graciously moved his arm down to shove his hand in Issei’s other pocket. 

“You’re entitled to feel what you want to,” Kuroo said, smiling obnoxiously at Issei. 

Takahiro pressed his fingertips into Issei’s thighs through his pockets. “What, you’re gonna complain that we have full authority to kick them out and have a room to ourselves?” 

Issei’s head ticked to the side, and Takahiro laughed at the step back Kuroo took. “You know… you’re right, Angel.” 

Kuroo held up his hands. “I give, I give!” 

Issei snorted, “Yeah, you better. Anyways, why hasn’t Ted kicked that door in yet?” 

As if summoned, Tendou swung the door between their rooms open. “Y’all fuckin’ in here yet? No? Damn shame.” 

Kuroo patted his shoulder. “You’ll see my ass in the shower later, baby, don’t worry.” 

Tendou threw himself into Kuroo’s side. “Not your ass I’m trying to see, sweetheart. I’ll get plenty of that later.” 

Takahiro grinned, ready to quip back when Issei pulled him around into a hug. A jolt of excitement went through him, as Issei slid his hands down to his butt and slipped his hands in Takahiro’s back pockets, and _squeezed._ “Absolutely not, Ted. This one’s mine.” 

Tendou waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah. We better get kickin’ before Mori lays down on that couch and we’re stuck with room service.” 

“Ah shit, YAKKUN!” Kuroo yelled, ducking into the other room. An aggressive “WHAT?!” came in response. 

Daichi came shuffling in, rubbing at his hip. “Alright, Kuroo picked a local place, are we ready?”

Issei bumped his chin on Takahiro’s head. “You need to change or anything?” 

Takahiro shook his head. “Nope. Could definitely eat, though.” 

“You’re in luck!” Kuroo said, emerging from the doorway, Yaku in tow. “We happen to be going to the coolest place in town.” 

“You’re the only one that thinks it’s cool, Tetsu,” Yaku said, grabbing Tendou’s jacket off his bag as he walked out the door. 

“Because it is cool!” Kuroo said, voice fading as he, Yaku, and Tendou walked down the hall. 

Daichi sighed and went after them. “They should really stop leaving me behind, I’m always the one with the car keys.” 

Takahiro wiggled free from Issei, and set his backpack down on the bed, and his suitcase next to it. Issei threw his duffel bag on the other side of the bed. “Hey, are you good with sharing a bed? Cause I can sleep on the floor-”

“I don’t mind,” Takahiro said, smiling at him, “it’s not that big a deal to share a bed. Besides, I’m a pretty still sleeper. As long as you don’t snore, I’ll be just fine.” 

“I don’t snore!” Issei said, as they walked out of the room and down to the elevators, where the others were waiting. 

“You don’t snore like you don’t believe in mermaids?” Takahiro said, and yelped when Issei made a swipe at him. Giggling, he threw himself behind Kuroo. “Protect me, Kuroo!” 

“Kuroo can’t protect you!” Issei said, and shoved Kuroo out of the way to snatch up Takahiro and sling him over his shoulder. “I do _not_ believe in mermaids, I don’t know _how_ many times I’m gonna have to tell you that!” 

Takahiro, still giggling, half-heartedly wiggled. “Sure, sure.” 

Issei sighed, and put him down. “I’m never gonna win that one, huh.” 

“Nope!” Takahiro chimed, along with the others, as they crowded onto the elevator. 

The jokes kept going as they walked to the restaurant, and Takahiro kept catching glimpses of Issei smiling at him. He found it really easy to fall in with their humor and conversations. They were polite and well behaved at the restaurant, which caught Takahiro off-guard until he caught Yaku and Kuroo kicking each other under the table and Daichi threw a shrimp at Tendou’s head for a comment about how he was starting to fill out. Takahiro caught Issei smiling at him over his beer, and he scrunched up his nose at him. 

After dinner they all made their way back to the hotel, and Takahiro was the first one in the shower, and immediately in his pajamas. He came out of the bathroom in a flood of steam, to find Kuroo, Yaku, and Daichi sprawled on the bed, Issei on the couch, and Tendou on the floor in front of him. “Interesting seating arrangement,” he muttered, and promptly draped himself across Issei’s lap and fell asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Takahiro woke up to Yaku an inch from his face. He swears to this day that his soul left his body. Yaku laughed at the full body jump Takahiro did that woke up Issei curled against his back, and Kuroo laying horizontally across his feet. “Ahh, that was a good one,” he said, and pulled at Kuroo’s arm. “Up and at ‘em, kids, we’re t-minus 45 minutes to the lake!” 

Takahiro groaned and sat up. Issei slung his arm around Takahiro’s waist and buried his nose in the dip between his hips. “Wanna shower together to save time?” 

Takahiro patted his back. “You’re on your own, buddy, I showered last night. I’m going for breakfast, want anything?” 

“Orange cranberry muffin or a strawberry yogurt,” Issei said, pressing a kiss into the sliver of skin showing between Takahiro’s shirt and shorts. “Please, angel.” 

“Mhm, mhm.” Takahiro shoved his feet into his slippers and walked past Tendou facedown on the floor. 

He returned from the breakfast bar with two waffles, a cup of syrup, a strawberry yogurt and two orange cranberry muffins. Issei kissed his cheek and took the muffins, and Yaku snatched the yogurt. Tendou made a grab for one of the waffles, but Takahiro whipped them out of his reach and muttered, “Get your own, these are mine.” 

He changed when one of the bathrooms was open, and spent the next 30 minutes sitting criss-cross on the couch, watching the others bustle around him. Issei joined him, and ate the last couple bites of his waffle. Exactly 45 minutes later, they were all back in the van, and Kuroo and Yaku were in the front arguing about whether they’d make it on time to the dock, and Daichi was snoring in the middle row, with Tendou recording it. 

They got to the docks, and Takahiro was pleasantly surprised to find out that they’d all pitched in for a pontoon boat for a couple days. He was especially pleased with all the space for napping and sunbathing. They all got on the boat, with two coolers and all their towels. Daichi ended up being the only one with a boat license, and he seemed thrilled to stand at the wheel with his hat and sunglasses. Tendou seemed thrilled to make fun of him on Snapchat. They did a couple rounds with the tubes, and then found a quiet spot to float and mess around. 

Takahiro sat down and pulled out his sunscreen, only for Issei to pull it out of his hands. He raised an eyebrow, and Issei shrugged. “You can’t reach your back by yourself.” 

“Actually, I can, but if you really want to, I’m not gonna stop you.” 

Issei plopped down behind him and started rubbing sunscreen into his shoulders. “You can put sunscreen on your back on your own?”

Takahiro melted into Issei’s touch, the warmth of his hands and the slow way he rubbed the sunscreen in. “Yeah, it’s all about the weird angles. It’s not ideal, of course, but it is what it is.” 

“Of course, of course. Alright, you’re all sunscreened up, let’s hit the water,” Issei said, patting Takahiro’s shoulder. 

“Nah, I’m tanning. Go, scurry along to the water, mermaid boy,” Takahiro said.

Issei stuck his tongue out and flipped him off. “I’ll get you in the water eventually, Angel.”

“Sure,” Takahiro chimed, laying back on his floatie and putting his sunglasses on. Distantly, he heard the water splash as Issei leaped in. Naptime. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Takahiro woke up from his nap, sprawled on a floatie at the front of the boat. Yaku was still curled up on the towels, wiped out after three rounds on the inner tubes, and Tendou was sitting in the back talking to Issei. 

Takahiro got up and blearily stumbled towards Issei. He slid his arm around his waist and leaned into his sun-warm skin, pressing his nose into his neck. 

“Aww cute,” Tendou cooed, and Issei chuckled, placing his hands on Takahiro’s waist. 

In hindsight - which is 20/20 as everyone knows - Takahiro really should’ve seen it coming. Issei was standing right next to the edge of the boat. And Takahiro knew he’d been the only one who hadn’t gotten into the water. The most telling clue was Kuroo in the water with Daichi, his phone (in its waterproof case) up and aimed at them. Still, when Issei's grip tightened and he lifted Takahiro up and threw him over the edge into the water, Takahiro couldn't help his surprised yelp before he hit the cold, cold water. 

When he surfaced, Kuroo was cackling and Daichi was struggling to keep his head up with his wheezing, Yaku was leaning over the side, and when Takahiro came up he plopped back down and disappeared over the edge of the boat. Tendou was in the water, doing his best to keep Daichi up while he shrieked with laughter, but Takahiro centered his focus on Issei, who was grinning down at him, silhouette glowing with the sun haloed behind him. For a brief moment, Takahiro forgot his revenge, and basked in the beauty of Issei smiling at him, tan and warm. And then he acted. 

Pouting, he put one hand up and Issei laughed, grabbing it and pulling him up. Takahiro let him pull him up into the boat, and shook his wet hair all over Issei who kept laughing and merely wiped his face. “i demand a reward for that. It was cold, and I got water up my nose.” 

Issei pouted mockingly. “Aw, poor angel. Here, I'll kiss it better.” 

“Yeah, you will.” Takahiro said, and yanked Issei’s mouth into his. 

It was like the planets aligned and the world went still. This was their first _real_ kiss. And God, it was better than Takahiro had ever imagined. Issei was warm, and soft, and steady under Takahiro’s mouth and fingers. It was so nice, and perfect, and for a moment, Takahiro almost regretted making Issei step back until he was against the other side of the boat, and swiping his feet out from under him. 

What he didn’t plan for, was Issei wrapping his arms around Takahiro and pulling him with him, back into the water - which was thankfully less cold now that Takahiro had already been in it. They came up spluttering, and Issei's face went softer than Takahiro’d ever seen when they made eye contact. 

“I have never been prouder in my entire life,” Yaku said, chin propped up on his hand as he leaned over the side of the boat. “Nobody’s ever been able to push Mattsun off. His balance is always too good.” 

Takahiro laughed. “Yeah, but at what cost?”

The others came around to their side and they spent the rest of the day splashing around and lazing on the boat. Issei and Tendou ended up with sunburns on their shoulders, and Takahiro had a tan line from his sunglasses and sandals, and Yaku was pink in the face. Only Kuroo and Daichi had escaped any burns, being the only ones to appropriately apply sunscreen throughout the day. Issei whined his way through dinner, and his shower, and Takahiro finally pulled out his aloe vera, and let Issei have his pity party while he gently rubbed the aloe into his shoulders. His strong, muscular shoulders. If Takahiro lingered a little, that was his business. 

Takahiro flopped into the bed, and Issei shooed everyone out. Issei curled up around Takahiro in the bed, and whispered, “Thanks,” into his neck before Takahiro promptly fell asleep. He’d never been one to struggle sleeping. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Black Lives Matter. Happy Pride.


	7. popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> movies and makeouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry its so short, but i think i didnt rly need a lot to get the point across .,,,,,, this one's from mattsun's pov! many many thanks to crystal once again, for all ur help <3 ily mom   
> i hope u guys like it ^-^

“Where are my...ah, there they are,” Mattsun said, pulling his glasses out of his bag and slipping them on his face. Hiro’s face came into sharp focus, and Mattsun raised an eyebrow at the face he was making - his mouth was twisted in that particular way that meant he was trying not to laugh, and his eyebrows were high up on his forehead. “What?”

Hiro coughed a little. “Fucking nerd,” he whispered, and then a grin split across his face. “You wear glasses, that’s so hot.” 

“I normally wear contacts,” he muttered, cheeks burning a little. Hiro gave a little nose scrunch. Mattsun felt his heart skip a beat. 

It’d been doing that  _ a lot _ lately, skipping beats whenever Hiro was around. It’d started when he’d seen Hiro in the cafeteria, bobbing his head along to the show on his laptop, looking absolutely angelic in the sunlight streaming in. Sleek blue raincoat, skinny jeans, purple t-shirt, and black striped Adidas. His hair a lovely shade of bubblegum pink. It’d gotten noticeable when he’d gone off on his forty-five minute rant about how to use different types of salt; when Drunk Hiro, passed out in his bed and curled around his pillow, had mumbled his name in his sleep; and, when Hiro had kissed him on the boat? Mattsun was fairly certain his heart exploded from how fast it was beating. Had Hiro been able to feel it? Hiro had been soft under his fingers, and his mouth had been tingly for hours afterward, and he got a rush of warmth anytime he looked in Hiro’s direction for the rest of the day. 

In fact, everything had gotten more noticeable since that kiss. It was two days later, and they were getting ready to go out for a movie - just the two of them, the others had decided to do mini-golfing - and when Hiro had walked out in his denim shorts and soft blue t-shirt, all tan, sunburn fading, and swiped Mattsun’s “WRECK” ballcap off his head and plopped it onto his own, his heart pounded  _ again. _ Like, what? What the hell was that about? 

Hiro nudged Mattsun’s arm with his elbow and did a little wiggle in his seat. Again,  _ what _ was with the heart-pounding? “Look, look, it’s starting!” he whispered, pointing at the movie screen. 

Mattsun nodded and smiled at Hiro when he beamed at him. He chuckled a little at Hiro’s grabby hands for the popcorn bucket. He shook his head and put the bucket between his knees. Shrugging, Hiro reached over to shove his hand in the bucket. He leaned his elbow on the armrest, his shoulder tapping Mattsun’s slightly every time he reached over to grab another piece.

About midway through the movie, Mattsun’s soul left his body. 

Hiro had stopped eating popcorn. He’d been leaning over the whole movie to make dumb little comments and jokes, and at some point, while Mattsun was laughing, Hiro had placed his fingers on his thigh. Mattsun’s brain went a little fuzzy from that point on, and he found himself missing dialogue and plot points every time Hiro’s fingers shifted or twitched a little, or when Hiro leaned back in to make a comment and his breath brushed warm over Mattsun’s cheek. At some point, he completely forgot what the movie was about in the first place. What was it about? He couldn’t remember. 

Hiro’s fingers spread wider on his thigh. Oh, right. The apocalypse. He turned to comment on an unnecessary explosion, only to find Hiro already facing him, lips parted to speak. Everything slowed down, and Mattsun felt his world narrow to Hiro and his stupid, perfect, pretty mouth, and his bright, honey brown eyes with those long eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks with every blink. 

Hiro’s tongue darted out to lick his lips, and Mattsun gave in. It would be an absolute crime to pass up an opportunity to kiss the boy who'd consumed his thoughts since he'd picked him up crying off the sidewalk, and felt his arms wrap tight around him like Mattsun was his whole world - and Mattsun wasn’t about to commit a crime. 

“Hey,” he whispered, looking back up at Hiro’s eyes. They were so pretty, so warm. 

“Hi,” Hiro whispered back. “You gonna kiss me or not?” 

Mattsun felt a surge of affection for him, and his uncanny ability to read his mind. “Of course I am,” Mattsun said, and closed the gap between them. A shiver of excitement ran down his spine at the soft press of Hiro’s lips on his. 

Everything aligned. Everything felt so right, and it only got better when Hiro pressed closer to him and slid his hand up under Mattsun’s shirt, fingers chilly against Mattsun’s skin. His lips parted at the soft swipe of Hiro’s tongue, and his world narrowed to the taste of butter and salt on Hiro’s tongue, and the chill of his fingers as he stroked along the waistband of Mattsun’s shorts. Hiro’s pinky slid under the fabric. Mattsun retaliated by sliding his hand along Hiro’s jaw and into his hair, relishing the softness of his curls under his fingertips. He tugged a little on one curl, and Hiro let out the most delicious little moan, and he felt a spark of satisfaction. 

It felt like hours, everything slow and warm, but it was only a few minutes before the girl in front of them cleared her throat loudly, after Hiro let out a moan just on the side of a little too loud. He pulled away - reluctantly. Hiro sat still as a stone for a moment, lips parted and eyes closed; the picture of perfection -  _ my angel,  _ Mattsun thought, touching Hiro’s cheek gently. Hiro smiled, and Mattsun knew he was done for. Hiro blinked and looked at him, and Mattsun smiled back. “Hi, Angel.” 

Hiro laughed a little, pressing his nose into Mattsun’s palm. “Hi, darling.” 

_ I want to ask him out. For real.  _ Mattsun thought and stood up. “Come on. I wanna kiss you more, in private.” 

Hiro wiggled his eyebrows, and Mattsun knew he was about to say something stupid. “Gonna kiss me other places, too?” 

“Maybe,” Mattsun teased, putting his arm around Hiro’s waist and curling his fingers under his Naruto t-shirt. 

“Oh, I sure hope so.” Hiro mirrored him, but shoved his hand in Mattsun’s front pocket - that seemed to be Hiro’s favorite spot. He wasn’t going to argue, not when Hiro’s fingers pressed into his thigh so nicely. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Twenty minutes later, Mattsun had a lapful of Hiro and a handful of ass, and was in absolute bliss, pressing kisses into Hiro’s neck, when the door burst open. Hiro jolted back, and his ass pressed in just the wrong way, and Mattsun closed his eyes and scrunched his nose against the inappropriately timed jolt of pleasure. “Sorry,” Hiro whispered, and he shook his head. 

“Oya?” Kuroo said, throwing himself onto the bed as Hiro slipped out of Mattsun’s lap. 

“Oya, nothing, fucker. I thought Issei and I were the only ones with the keys to this room,” Hiro said, and Mattsun threw his fist up with a cackle. He was so proud of his boyfriend.  _ Fake. Fake boyfriend, _ he reminded himself. 

“Yeah, you thought,” Yaku said, laying on top of Kuroo. “It’s your fault for not locking the door while you were making out.” 

“What, like I haven’t walked in on you making out with Tetsu and or Ted like fifteen fucking times? At least I knock.” Mattsun said, kicking at Kuroo’s arm.

Kuroo smacked his leg, and flipped over, holding Yaku in his arms. Yaku simply went, and Mattsun rolled his eyes, and reached his hand out to Hiro, who threaded their fingers together. He squeezed Hiro’s fingers, and Hiro squeezed back, smiling at him.  _ Maybe it’s not-  _

“OH YEAH!” Tendou yelled, throwing the door between the rooms open - Daichi behind him - and slapping his hands down on Yaku’s ass with a loud  _ smack. _ “What’d I miss?” 

Yaku kicked at him, rubbing at his ass, and Hiro shrieked with laughter, still clinging to Mattsun’s fingers. “Nothin’ but this dick, baby,” Daichi muttered, and Tendou slapped his shoulder, cackling. 

“You missed Makki and Mattsun making out aggressively, is what you missed,” Kuroo said, with his nose pressed into Yaku’s neck. Tendou put one hand on Yaku’s back and the other on Kuroo’s forearm, and Daichi and Mattsun gagged in unison. 

“The atmosphere is ruined, and I still have an unfortunate boner,” Hiro said, “and if you all aren’t gonna get out then I suggest we go for dinner. I’m hungry.” 

“Dinner it is,” Mattsun sighed, sitting up, “on Tetsu.” 

“Hey, wait a minute-” 

Yaku and Tendou were up and out the door, Daichi on their heels. Kuroo chased after them, yelling about how he wasn’t going to pay for all of them. Hiro pressed a kiss to Mattsun’s knuckles. “I’m glad you invited me,” he whispered.

Mattsun pulled him close and kissed his nose. “I’m glad you came, Angel.” 

_ This,  _ Mattsun thought, letting their foreheads press together,  _ this is all I’ve ever wanted. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MATTSUN SAID SAP


	8. the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We should date...haha jk ............................ unless?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy,,,,,, shit,,,,,,,, i think i cried like four times ,,,,,, this is it,,, this is the end,,,,, im,,,,,
> 
> dont touch me holy fuck

Eight weeks later, Aya was tilting her head back on the couch to look at Takahiro pacing back and forth across the well-worn path on her rug. “Have you considered…telling him?” 

Takahiro whipped around and gave her an incredulous look. “Are you fucking kidding? _I’m_ the one who suggested the whole fake dating thing! I can’t just, just, _change my mind!_ Fuck!” He dragged his hands through his hair. 

“I mean, yeah, you could. The only thing stopping you is yourself, really, Taka,” Aya said, snapping a picture of her cat curled up on the couch. 

“Absolutely not, Aya, I can’t.”

“You can.” 

“Cannot.” 

“Can.” 

“Cannot.”

“Uhhhh, _can._ ”

Takahiro shook his head aggressively. “I can’t. What if it ruins everything and he hates me and I can never see him again? I really like him, and his friends, and his mom, too. I can’t _not_ talk to his mom!” 

Aya stopped taking pictures of her cat and stood up, hands on her hips, and gave Takahiro the most aggressive “are you fucking serious” face he’d ever seen. Even in Saito’s t-shirt - which was still weird - and cat stockings, with her hair in a partially destroyed ponytail, she struck an imposing figure. “Takahiro. Look at me. Are you listening?” He nodded, nervously tucking his hands under his armpits. “From everything you’ve told me, and from what I’ve seen over the past two months, absolutely _nothing_ about what the two of you have is going to be ruined. Yes, he might not want to real date, it is a possibility, but really, I highly doubt it. So the best you can do is tell him, and let Fate take its course.” 

Takahiro nodded, still a little shaky, and she held her hand out, smiling at him. “Good. Now come here, and let’s finish the movie and get wine drunk. You can do it tomorrow.” 

He fell onto the couch with a sigh and leaned his head on her shoulder. Her cat, Helena, jumped up and settled herself in his lap, purring loudly at his hand on her head. His brain went a thousand miles a minute, thinking of all the awful what-ifs and things that could go wrong until Aya nudged him and showed him a picture of Saito passed out on her couch with Helena’s paw in his mouth. He forced himself to focus on his best friend and their time and promised himself that he would think things over in the morning. 

  
  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  
  


The next morning, he woke up to Aya standing over him, taking a picture of him, with Helena curled up on his chest. She smiled at him and then started nudging him with her foot. “Get up, get up, unless you wanna miss breakfast.” 

He sat up with a groan. “You’re not cooking, are you?”

“Hey, I resent that!” She paused, pouting. “No, Nao’s coming over to cook.” 

Helena resettled herself in his lap, and he grinned. “Sounds good. He knows what I like.” 

“Uh, you don’t get shit if you don’t promise me you’re gonna go over to Mattsun’s today. _And_ tell him how you feel,” she said, scooping Helena out of his lap. 

Takahiro groaned loudly, kicking at the arm of the couch. 

“Don’t kick my fucking couch! Ah. There he is,” she murmured at the knock on the door. Takahiro watched a familiar smile float across her face as she walked to the door. 

He’d seen that smile on Issei’s face so many times. Seeing it mirrored on Aya’s face gave him a ray of hope. If that was the face she made thinking about her boyfriend, then maybe…maybe Takahiro had a chance. He watched her kiss Saito’s cheek when he came in, and the radiance of joy in her face when he touched her cheek and kissed her forehead in return was enough to give Takahiro the push he needed to say “Fuck it.” 

He stood up. He could do this. There was _something_ in the way Issei looked at him, and all Takahiro had was the hope that it was some form of romantic affection. And that would be the thing he would cling to. He could _do this._

“Hey, Aya? Don’t worry about me for breakfast. I’m going.” 

Aya turned and smiled at him. “Come give Helena a kiss for luck, Taka.” 

He smiled back and gave Helena a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks, Aya. I love you. You, too, Naoki, a little bit.” 

Saito grinned at him and smacked his shoulder. “Yeah. Feeling’s mutual.” 

“Love you, too, Taka.”

“Did he say that when you told him you loved him?” Takahiro said as he waltzed out the door to Saito spluttering and Aya cackling with laughter. He could do this. 

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  
  


Ten minutes later, he was standing on Issei’s doorstep, panting a little. He could do this. Takahiro _could do this._ He raised his fist to the door, took a deep breath, and knocked. A second and four hours later, Issei opened the door. When he saw Takahiro, he smiled that stupid, dopey smile. “There you are, Angel.” 

With those four words, Takahiro lost every ounce of courage he’d gathered from Aya and Saito and that nice taxi driver. “Um. Hi. Hello. I’m here, yes.” 

Issei chuckled and held the door open. “You hungry? I had a feeling and made extra pancakes.” 

Takahiro fell a little bit harder for him. How could he possibly tell this wonderful, amazing, perfect person that he was kind of, maybe falling in love with him? How could he risk losing Issei, and as a result, everything Issei had given him. All the time, the music, the laughter, the quiet moments, _all of it,_ would just be _gone._ For a brief moment, his eyes burned with tears. He closed the door to Issei’s apartment and breathed out for a moment. This would be okay. He’d told Aya he’d do it, and by god, he would do it. Just… he’d wait a minute. Feel it out. 

He plunked down on Issei’s couch, where he’d spent countless nights studying over the past two months. Issei came in with a plate of pancakes and a bottle of syrup and plunked down next to him. “I’m out of that tea you like, you drank the last bottle last week, so if you want a drink, you’ll have to drink water like a peasant.” 

Takahiro paused with a bite of pancake half-way to his mouth. “You… drink that, too, right?” 

Issei smirked at him. “No, I don’t particularly like sour stuff. Unless it’s on your tongue,” he ended with a wink. 

Takahiro put his pancake bite down, and turned to face Issei directly. “You buy that tea because I drank it in a restaurant _once,_ and you don’t even like it?” 

Issei shoved half a pancake in his mouth. “No.”

Takahiro blinked and put his face in his hands. “What the hell _are_ you? You buy me a tea that you don’t even like, you picked me up drunk from a party when we barely knew each other, you kiss me even when we’re in private, and you helped me study for my finals even though you had all of your own finals to study for, and you _made extra pancakes because you had a feeling I’d be here?_ I repeat, what the hell are you?”

Issei put his second pancake down and turned so that he was facing Takahiro. “I’m your friend, Hiro. And your fake boyfriend.” 

Takahiro gaped at him. “Are you- No, you definitely are. My god. Issei,” he put his hands on Issei’s cheeks, “I’m gonna kiss you now.” 

“Yeah, I can get behind that.” 

Takahiro huffed a laugh out at him, and then pressed their mouths together. _This._ This was why Takahiro suggested fake dating, why Takahiro was putting himself through absolute hell. _This_ would be his reward, getting to kiss Issei all the time, whenever he wanted, and having it be _real._

Issei smiled a little into the kiss, and then pushed his tongue into Takahiro’s mouth. Takahiro let him have it for a moment, then pulled back and scrunched his nose. “Ew, don’t kiss me like that after shoving half a pancake in your mouth. Which was impressive, by the way. Just a little.” 

Issei looked at him, lips parted, before inhaling sharply and bursting into laughter. Takahiro couldn’t help but grin. He always did like to make Issei laugh. He didn’t quite get why Issei was laughing, but it was a nice thing to hear, regardless. Issei’s laugh was one of those laughs that sank into your chest and wrapped around your heart. It was bright and warm and full of unrestrained joy. Another reason on a very long list as to why Takahiro was kind of, maybe, a little in love with him. 

Issei cupped his cheeks and pressed their foreheads together. “Hiro, Angel, I have a question.” 

“If you’re gonna ask me if I can fit half a pancake in my mouth, the answer is no.” 

Issei snorted, a puff of air across Takahiro’s lips. “Will you real date me, Hiro?” 

Takahiro’s breath caught in his chest. Holy shit. _Holy shit._ This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be real. He had to say something. How long had it been? A few minutes? An hour? Oh god, he was still wearing his pajamas. Issei was still warm against him, and he could still taste the sweet syrup on his lips. _He had to say something._ “I don’t think it was ever fake.” 

Issei stroked his thumb over Takahiro’s cheek. “No, I don’t think so either. So… was that a yes, or…?”

Takahiro threw his head back and cackled with laughter. “Oh, fuck you. Of course it was a yes, dumbass. How could it possibly be anything but?” 

Issei grinned, full and warm and bright, and pulled him into a soft kiss. “Good.” 

“Good,” Takahiro whispered back and pushed himself into Issei’s lap. “Really, where have you been all my life?”

Issei gave him a stupid, soft, dopey smile. “Your dreams, probably, I think I’ve seen you in mine. I need a favor, Angel, can you do that for me?” 

“I might be able to grace you with a favor. What is it?” He whispered, a perfect mirror of their first conversation. 

“Can I kiss you?” Issei asked, and Takahiro was kissing him before he had the full sentence out. 

“Darling, you can kiss me anytime,” Takahiro murmured, and Issei took it to heart, kissing him again and again until their pancakes were left forgotten on the table, and Takahiro was warm from the press of his boyfriend’s body and kisses. 

  
And Takahiro knew. _Everything was right in the world._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really hope you guys enjoyed this, and thanks to crystal (volleydorkscentral) , yankee mom, and zoe (socksaregoodshit) for all your help, i love you guys <3


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